How It All Started
by Akii-1
Summary: The epic and highly dysfunctional love story of Sam and Dean Winchester. Set in season 9, with lots of love, angst, hurt and comfort. Rated T for semi explicit sex scenes and psychological violence. Please review if you liked!
1. How It All Started

Hi, this is my first story strictly about the Winchester brothers' love story so please show mercy!  
I tried to write the most realistic and believable story I could, following the show's plot. It's based on season 9, beginning shortly after Kevin's death, and it's mixed with lots of flash backs.  
I hope you'll like it!

The story can get dark, I prefer to warn you.

NB: I'm not an english native speaker, so feel free to make corrections if needed, it will be very appreciated :)

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How did it all start?

Dean is in the bunker, pretending to research. He has drunk an entire bottle of bourbon, and he's still restless. He feels tense. Staying sit almost hurts. He doesn't know what to do. Well actually he does. He needs the blade. And he needs...he needs...no. He said they were not brothers anymore. He said he would have let him die. So, no. He won't beg for it. He still has pride, somewhere. We're just collegues, right? Collegues don't...well brothers neither. But he wasn't the one to always pretend they were special and that they didn't have to live by the same set of rules than everyone else.

_I'm so fucked up_.

He's angry at Sam. There is so much anger between them now. It didn't use to be like that before. It used to be simpler.

Dean remembers when they were kids, how easy things were. Well, easy, of course there were monsters and motels and long, long trips in the car but things were simple. There was Dad. Dean was the elder. And Sam was his baby brother.

Dean has always felt sudden burst of love for his brother, at the most unexpected times, since he was just a baby. He remembers very vividly when his mother came back home with this tiny, so tiny human being, and told Dean he could hold him if he was very gentle, and very careful. Dean held his brother, and Sam opened his eyes. He had bright blue eyes then, and even if it wasn't possible, Dean was sure the baby smiled at him. "He smiled Mommy!", he said, and his mother replied "I'm sure he did sweetheart". That was the firt time he felt it. This warmth, filling his heart, making him want to run and laugh at the same time. He certainly did that when he was four.

Now the only thing you could see when it happens is a hint of smile on the corner of his mouth. But the feeling is the same. The same.

After their mother died, Dean took care of Sam like a parent. Like what he thought a parent was. He used his memories of his mom, what he could see on TV, and a lot of imagination, but he always felt like he wasn't good enough. Sometimes Sammy was crying and he couldn't understand why. He was sure a mother, or a real father would have been able to. But the only thing their father said then was "Please make him stop". Sammy was crying all the time when he was little. The only thing Dean could do was holding him, and humming songs he remembered from kindergarten.

At 5, Dean felt already really old.

But the moment Sam started talking, everything became really great between them. All of Sam's attention was focused on Dean, all his love too. Sam was an innocent. In the beginning he didn't know anything about the monsters and everyhting. He was trusting and kind. Afraid of knives and pointy things. At night, he had nightmares, and every now and then he went to sleep in Dean's bed. He never tried to go to their father's, like any other child would. It was only logical, Dean was the one who took care of him. Growing up, when they began to work, hunt together, they became even closer. Dean taught Sam everything he knew, and he saw how good Sam was. Fast, unafraid, calm. Impressive. But he couldn't repress the anxiety that smothered him everytim Sam was in danger.

At 15, Dean knew what it felt like to be a worried parent.

When Sam reached teenage, he was spared by the awkwardness, and grew up gracefully, when other kids were plagued with acne and unease. It had been the same for Dean, and he thought his brother would be a little heartbreaker like him. Though Dean wasn't really a player. Sex, relationships, it was just a way to release the pressure. He never felt anything else than affection for his girlfriends, and he thought it was because of his lifestyle. Because he knew he couldn't get attached. But was it?

Anyway Saw wasn't really interested in girls. At 14, he was already quite tall, and Dean could see all the girls looking at him with shy interest. But he didn't see them. Sometimes, Dean would tease him, ask him if he wanted some dating advice. And Sam would answer agressively, something like "_Mind your own business_" or "_I'm not interested in dating idiots like you do_". Back then, Dean never thought about Sam's look when he brought a girl back home. Whatever "home" was, at the moment. He thought Sam was just annoyed. Because yes, usually the girl wasn't very bright and the walls were thin. Dean didn't know why he needed to bring girls back. He said he wanted a proper bed. That Dad took the car. He had plenty of good reasons, you know. Sam's contemptuous gaze whenever he brought a girl home made him laugh. Talking about how great the night was at breakfast made him incredibly satisfied. Oh come on Sammy, you'll find one to someday!

_Bitch...Jerk..._

Sam's sixteenth birthday was spent on a werewolf hunt. Of course, their father had forgotten, and had asked them to go on a mission for a week. Apparently he noted everything in his stupid notebook except his sons birthdays. As usual.

Dean wanted to tell him that they should all stay together and celebrate for once but Sam stopped him before he could end his sentence. Later in the car he said "_I don't care he forgot, if there's one person I want to spend my birthday with, it's you, not that dick_". Dean told him not to call their father a dick, and thanked him, before making a stupid joke about Sam being such a girl with all his feelings. But inside, he had felt that familiar burst of love, and joy.

The night of Sam's birthday, Dean invited him to the restaurant. Well more of a diner. But it was nice. There was music and burgers and beer. It was warm and people were friendly. Dean was checking out the waitress, out of habit, and Sam told him to stop. Dean asked why. Sam said it was annoying and Dean laughed. He said "_maybe I could ask her to...you know. As a birthday present_". He saw Sam clenching his jaw and mutter "_Listen, it's not because we live in motels that we have to turn into truckers_.". Dean didn't see he was angry, so he went on laughing and said "_hey Sammy, one day, you'll have to use it, so why not tonight_?". Sam left the diner. Dean thought he had been an idiot. Sam certainly felt humiliated. Why did he always felt the need to brag about his sex life with his brother? He was 20 damn it. Not a 14 years old.

So he ran outside. Sam was standing on the sidewalk, heavily breathing, turning his back on Dean who guessed his eyes were filled with tears. He suddenly remembered what he told him when he was little, when he had these panic attacks: "_Breathe Sammy, breathe, happy thoughts ok?_". But Sam wasn't a baby anymore so Dean apologized. _"I'm sorry Sammy ok, I'm sorry, come back inside, I didn't mean to upset you_". Sam turned to him, trying to look composed and said, _"I'm not upset, I'm sad"_. Dean felt like a worried parent again. "_Why are you sad Sammy? Tell me_". "_I can't tell you_", said Sam, "_It's not your fault and there's nothing you can do about it alright?_". He had a sad smile, like he was longing for something. Dean thought he was probably sad their father forgot his birthday but didn't want to admit it. Sam and John had always had a complicated relationship.

After a big hug and a hair ruffle - Sammy and his girly hair! - they went back to the diner and had a nice time. A nice normal evening. And Dean promised himself not to make fun of Sam and girls anymore. That was a promise he was never able to keep.

Things got more and more tense between Sam and their father after that. It was difficult for Dean whose life revolved around his family. His worst fear was loosing that fragile balance. It was the only thing he had, and Sam was ready to toss it. A few weeks after Sam's 18th birthday, he told him he planned to go to college. Dean felt his heart break. He would never had thought it could be possible, to feel yourself crumble into a million pieces. But he was Dean Winchester. He tried to remain calm as everything was collapsing inside him, listening to Sam saying he couldn't stand this life anymore, that he wanted to leave, that he had a way out. "_And you should come with me_", he said, "_you're intelligent Dean, I'm sure you could make your way out of it_". Yeah right. "_Stop pretending you're a redneck, only good at hunting because you're not_". Dean suddenly felt anger filling his body. He stood up and said "_Because you know who I am better than I do_?". Sam walked to him and said that yes, he did, and he also knew what he really wanted. Oh really, what do I want then, tell me!

You want to be with me, he said, with something dark in his eyes.

Dean didn't want to see that darkness. So he said "_But I am already with you! We're family!"_. He told him that leaving him and Dad before they had caught Yellow Eyes was treason. Sam laughed, desperately, saying "_What is that? Full Metal Jacket? Are we in the fucking army? I've never signed anywhere, have I? Oh right! I was a baby, no one asked me!_". Dean felt angrier and angrier. "_Who took care of you_", he said, "_did you lack of anything? Huh? Tell me!_". Sam had his sad look again. "_This is not against you. You always took good care of me. That's why I...I think you, we deserve better. We could do better just the two of us, just.._.". He was getting closer to Dean, and he put a hand on his shoulder. Dean felt the warmth of his brother hand, and he put his hand over it. He didn't know what to say. Something was boiling inside him but nothing understandable could come of it. He couldn't look at Sam. He was half angry and half something else. Sad? No. Resentful? Maybe. But it wasn't it.

And Sam kept talking, he kept saying "_I don't want us to be separated. I just want to be away from Dad. I don't want us to get hurt, I don't care about Dad's quest, Dean... I don't want to loose you_". Dean froze. "_Why would you?_".

"_Because we hunt monster, because we're not unvincible, because...you drink too much, you drive too fast because...There are so many reasons...Why won't you come with me_?" Dean said he wasn't fit for the real world. That without hunting he would get bored. And as if to piss Sam off, he grabbed a bottle of Jack and began to drink. Actually he thought it would ease the turmoil he felt. Sam took the bottle and drank too, putting his lips right where Dean put his. And they kept on drinking, until the bottle was empty and the world felt a little fuzzy. Sam was trying to get some honesty from Dean, and he thought only whiskey could lower his brother's defenses, and he was right. Dean started to talk again.

"_You know...I've never done anything else. And I'm not that clever, no, don't look at me like that. I'm street smart. But I'm not a nerd like you. I won't fit. I can't make friends, you saw me at school. Outside hunting I'm...I'm no one_". And after saying that he walked to the fridge to grab another bottle. Sam let him, weighing every word he was going to say. " _You're not no one_." Dean began to drink again. " _Yeah, I am. I'm your big bother, I know you think I'm awesome_", he said, laughing a little, "_but take my gun away and I'm just a John Doe_". Sam drank " _Not to me. Never to me. It should matter_.", there was a pleading tone in his voice he wished he would have hidden better. " _It does. It does but..._". Dean couldn't quite grasp what he wanted to say and his brain was in a blur. But he kept drinking. Slowly sipping the bottle. There was something inside him he wanted to drown in alcohol.

Until Sam took the bottle away, and knelt right beside him. "_Stop it._" he said, slowly. "_Talk to me, don't get wasted_". Dean watched his brother's face, his beautiful eyes hidden behind his bangs, his concerned look...He ruffled his hair and Sam caught his hand, holding it tight. He remained silent, but rose slowly, until his face was on the same level than Dean's, their foreheads almost touching. "_Come with me. Please._" Dean caught Sam's neck. He could feel his pulse, and he noticed Sam's heart was racing. His own heart was too. What was he so afraid of? What was this fire in his veins, adrenaline?

_"Tell me you'll come"_ Sam had just grabbed the back of Dean's shirt while saying that, and pulled him even closer. Something inside Dean urged him to push his brother away, but Dean didn't listen. Why would he push Sam away? He wanted to tell him he couldn't come because he was afraid, but what responsible adult would say that? He wanted to beg him to stay because he was the only one who actually care about him but he didn't want to sound needy. His heart began to feel painful.

"_Please_".

At that moment their forehead touched, and Sam touched Dean's cheek with his other hand, eyes closed, whispering in Dean's mouth "_Please_". And kissing him. It was almost accidental. Their lips touched, and Sam kissed Dean's upper lip while saying another please. Something in Dean broke. Before he could process the information, he was kissing Sam back, holding his face with his two hands, leaning into it. He felt that Love, but like a hundred times stronger. When they finally broke the kiss, Sam's cheek were wet with tears, and he kissed Dean again, on the mouth, the cheekbones and the corner of his eyes.

He said I love you.

And kissed him again. Suddenly Dean felt a feeling of fear he never experienced. Like a wave. Crushing him.

What have we done?

What the hell have we done?

He looked at the bottle and tried to blame it on the alcohol, but actually, said a vicious little voice in his head, you should thank it. You should thank it for not having a boner right now. For not being turned on by your little brother, and his swollen lips, his tears and...

Dean got up, mumbled a "sorry Sammy, I'm sorry" and stormed out the room. He tried to wipe his mouth with his hand several times, but the feeling wasn't going away. He felt like throwing up. His whole body was painful, and the adrenaline rush was so strong he could barely walk. He had to silence the voice in his head repeating endlessly he was a criminal.

He spent the night in a gloomy bar, spending all his money on cheap booze. Getting the most wasted he could to erase the memory. He remembered what his Dad said about Sam and how "different" from them he was, whatever that meant. And then he instantely called himself a dick for thinking for just one second that he could blame Sam. It was his fault. His. Everything he had done since that very moment led there. He created that situation by being too close to Sam. By being constantly with him. By being flattered by his interest, by his jealousy, by his...worshipping. By letting him sleep in his bed when he wasn't a kid anymore, and by far. By liking his touch. By...It was entirely his fault. And why didn't he push him away? Why did he even... He had never wanted this so why did he reacted like this. The voice was still there saying "_oh yes you wanted this, and you know it_". So he drank more shots to make it finally shut up. Shut up. _I've never wanted any of this. We're brothers. He's my little brother. This is beyond wrong._

After throwing up once or twice he got into a bar fight about something he couldn't even remember the next morning. A fight he lost miserably. But he needed to be beaten up. He needed someone to hit him hard, to punish him, to kill him, maybe? But they just hit and hit and hit until they got bored, and two humans were never stronger that one vamp or one werewolf. He could still walk. Pussies he said. Pussies.

When he got back to the motel in the morning, he was still drunk and bloody. Sam was silent, scarily silent. He patched him up and put him to bed. Dean woke up only in the middle of the afternoon. And pretended he didn't remember anything. Not his finest hour. But he didn't see what else he could say, and maybe that if he refused to think about it he would just forget. Forget about what he felt when their lips...stop. It never happened.

Two months later, Sam was gone.

He drove him to the bus station since John wouldn't talk to him. The trip was heavily silent. Since that night they barely talked to each other, especially after Dean said to their father "_If he wants to leave, let him go!_" with a little contemptuous smirk that Sam would have liked to wipe out of his face with his clenched fist, he could see it in his eyes. He knew he was hurting him, but that was what he had to do. He had to let him go. Sam had a way out. A way to a normal life. And Dean didn't want to spoil it. He didn't want to taint him any more than he already did. Sam was still pure. Whatever Dad thought. And Dean rather had his brother hating him and having a normal life than loving him and wanting things that are just plain wrong.

When they arrived, they were early, and Sam got out the car and sit on the Impala's hood. After a few minutes, Dean joined him, a flask in his hand, and sipped a little alcohol.

"_Sammy..._" said Dean, not looking at him. Sam didn't let him continue. "_Listen Dean, the bus is coming in 10 minutes, and since I might not see you again..._" Normally, Dean would have joked about Sam using the word "might", but he remained silent. "_I have to tell you something, and please don't interrupt me. I know you remember what happened that night and I want you to hear that: I don't regret it. I don't regret a second of it, and I would do it all over again if given the choice. You've been beating yourself up about it for days now, and I want you to stop. I wanted it, I still want it, and there is a seat for you in this bus if you want to come with me"_. Dean slowly turned towards Sam. _"What?_".

"_I bought you a ticket_", said Sam, with his sad smile Dean knew so well. "_I thought you could change your mind_" .

Dean first intention was saying yes and kissing Sam. But his self-righteous side crushed it before it could even reach his lips. _He needs to be away from you, for his own good_.

So he kept silent and he drank more. Sam looked even sadder.

"_I see_", said Sam, moving from the Impala. Dean grabbed his sleeve. "_I can't. We can't._".

"_We can_", replied Sam, desperate anger filling his eyes."_You're just afraid._"

You're right, thought Dean. Afraid. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff and having no other choice than jumping to your death. Dean didn't even know how he would process Sam being gone, but going with him would mean...no. No.

"_I know what you think. But i don't want to hear those word._"

(Wrong, twisted, evil)

"_Because it's not what I feel. There's nothing like that. I know you always tell me there is only right and wrong, humans and monster but you're wrong. Life is more complicated than that. We are more complicated than that._"

No, we're not, thought Dean. There are rules, and rules are meant to be followed. We don't have a say.

_ "Just tell me something, just one thing, before I go_." Dean drinked again and mumbled

"_What?_"

"_Do you feel the same?_"

Another sip.

"_Do you?_"

Another sip.

Sam tried to remain composed while his heart was crumbling.

_"Since when?"_

Another sip. Dean was amazed at Sam's ability to voice something like this. Something that made him want to grab his gun and burn his own brain. He couldn't say it. But he couldn't stand Sam's expression either. His "so you don't love me anymore?" face. It was a punch in the gut.

Sam tried to control his voice and said "_Since my 16th birthday, for me. That's when I realized. When you invited me to that diner and tried to invite that waitress. I wanted you to see that...she...or anyone...wasn't the person I wanted to spend my evening with... _ "

Dean turned to him, his eyes filled with tears. "_Sammy..._"

"_But you're still gonna let me go right?"_

Dean got up and grabbed Sam's shirt, his voice trembling: "_It's not what I want for you. I want you to have a normal life, the apple pie life. Don't laugh! I'm serious. I want you out of that darkness. You need to forget all of that, look at me, you need to forget that. You go to college, you get good grades, a girlfriend, friends, you can have it all Sammy you can have it all, I know it, just please, please...You said you loved me, then if you do, Sammy, if you love me, listen to me. You know i want what's best for you. What's best is away from me, for now._"

Sam whispered "_What about you_?"

_"I'll be ok. I'm always ok._" said Dean, trying to smile. "_And your bus is here, grab your bag_" Sam grabbed his bag, and hugged his brother, maybe a little too long, making him promise to call, and write. Knowing he wouldn't. He walked to the bus, put his bag with the others, and then turned to Dean, standing on the other side of the road, looking at him, leaning on the Impala. He said "_wait a minute_" to the driver and ran to his brother.

Before Dean could say anything, Sam caught his jacket's collar and kissed him. Dean had to fight hard not to kiss him back. Sam then said sadly "_Goodbye Dean_", and ran back to the bus.

"_Your boyfriend?_" said the driver.

"_Brother_", said Sam.

_And I don't care what you all think._


	2. Fire and Blood

In the beginning, Sam did everything out of revenge.

Having good grades, making friends, partying...He did everything thinking "_See, Dean? i'm doing what you wanted! Now are you happy you stupid prick?_". But Dean wasn't there. Sam even thought going out with boys. But he couldn't. He didn't have a lot of experience with girls either. A few kisses. And a little more. But nothing serious, nothing Dean-esque.

He needed to bond with people, he needed intimacy. He couldn't understand how Dean could casually have sex with pretty much everyone. Without love. It was just like his relationship with food. He can eat the worst chemical pie, just because it says pie on the box and because he's hungry. Sam had always loved to cook. And then of course, there were his feelings. For Dean. When it started, at first he thought it was a curse. Or a succubus. Because it began in his dreams.

He woke up terrified, needing to take the hottest shower he could until his skin was almost burnt so he could calm down. He had always loved his brother, worshipped him even. He had always been jealous of Dean's girlfriends but it was because they were dumb, because they took him away. Because they made him drink. Because... It wasn't what Dean really needed. He needed love, and he was running away from it. Sam couldn't understand why. He asked Dean about it only once, when he was fourteen.

"_Why don't you try to have a real girlfriend Dean?_" Dean had replied something like I like to be unattached. Like loving makes you weak. But you love me, said Sam, does it make you weak? And Dean laughed and said "_It's not the same Sammy...but yeah I love you of course I do. I'd die for you, you know that. But if it's for you I don't care_". Sam was puzzled, "_why don't you?_".

"_Because we're family_".

That seemed a little too simple. Shortly after, a few weeks after his fifteenth birthday, the dreams began. The first one was very simple. He had a nightmare, as usual, and went straight to Dean's bed, cuddling against his brother's chest, putting his ear over his heart, listening to his heartbeat. And then Dean said something like "_Are you ok baby?_", and Sam didn't react at the word, in the dream, it seemed normal, casual. He said "_yeah, I'm good_", and then Dean touched his cheek, kissed him on the nose, then on the lips, and said "_go back to sleep then_".

The first time it happened, Sam went straight outside and almost had a panic attack. And that dream came back, over and over again. With others. Others more and more intimate.

Dean noticed Sam was waking up everynight looking scared, and wondered why he didn't come to him for comfort anymore. Well he was probably too old for that now. Sam tried to understand what demon or creature could provoke that. And after lots of research, holy water drinking and many different hex bags he understood there was no demon. It was him. Just something deep inside him which was awakening at night. Something utterly terrifying.

It began to influence his day life. He started to notice how handsome his brother was. How he liked his eyes, his smile. He had always liked them. At first he tried to convince himself he just admired Dean, that he wanted to be like him. So he asked his father to go hunting alone with Dean so he could learn everything his brother had to teach. He naively thought that if he reached Dean's level, he wouldn't admire him that much and the dreams would disappear.

He was so terribly wrong. He saw how fierce Dean was, how protective. How loving. Dean couldn't stand Sam being hurt or threatened. At night he always patched him up, trying hard not to hurt him. Taking care of him. Being oblivious of himself. Sam always needed him to save his ass, to warn him, to help him. And Dean was always so patient with him. Never angry, always explaining everything several times but still saying "_I'm proud of you, you did great_" when he knew he almost screwed everything up. It would have helped if Dean had been a little bit more like their Dad. Like moody, aggressive and wanting to be called sir. Dean truly loved him. And that made everything worse. Because there was no way Dean would have the same kind of fantasies.

But sometimes, he thought he saw something in Dean's eyes when he was walking around shirtless. He thought he felt something in Dean's touch whenever he pat his shoulder or hugged him. But he could be wrong. He was so inexperienced, after all. He knew loving his brother, desiring him,even, was wrong. Well, supposed to be. But he wasn't hurting anyone, was he? And if this love made him anything it was even more loyal to his brother. And happier. Happy to have him in his life, happy to have someone who loved him so much. And Dean would never have to know.

So, as he couldn't decently spend his remaining days on Earth hating himself, Sam decided there was nothing wrong with love. Turning a shitstorm into something positive had always been his way to cope with life. We're moving again? Good! The next place will surely be interesting. Dad is gone for three weeks now? Yay, more time with Dean. He had always known he had to do that in order to survive, so that's precisely what he did. Loving your brother is supposed to be wrong and twisted, according to everybody? Fine! We're not everybody.

If Dean had accepted to follow him when he asked him the first time, he would have never told him anything. They would have left for California together, they would have shared a place, and Sam would have kept on concealing what he felt. But Dean had to say no, he had to speak like John, talking about duty and treason and it drove Sam mad. And then deeply sad, when he started to belittle himself again. So Sam just let go and when Dean kissed him back, he couldn't stop the tears from falling. He was right. Dean loved him back. But Dean being Dean, he had to turn it into a hurricane of guilt and stiff moral values.

Thus, when he arrived in college, he thought he could find a guy who looked like Dean and have his ways with him. But he soon realized that it wasn't going to happen. He wasn't attracted to other guys, or to guys for that matter. His attraction to Dean was based on love, and his dreams, though intimitate were more tender than explicit. He knew he wanted Dean's touch, but he didn't know exactly how. But he did know he didn't want anyone else's. He didn't want to cheat on him. Which was really stupid since they were not a couple, since they had never done anything or would ever, and since Dean really wouldn't care. Except if it was to tell him "_well i've always known you were gay_", and laugh about his music tastes.

When he met Jess, he thought she was a nice girl and that was pretty much it. But there was a kindness in her that made him feel safe. She saw right through him from the very beginning, she saw there was something behind his easy going character, and she was the first to notice. To ask him how he was when he thought he faked a perfect smile. To invite him in her family for Christmas, when they were still just friends, so he wouldn't stay at the dorm, alone. He had said something stupid like "We're not very Christmas spirit in my family", and Jess had hugged him and asked "just think about it ok?", and he came over. She had a very nice family, with normal parents, a little sister, a big brother, and a dog whose name was Buddy. A few months before he would have laughed at them. Those white-picket-fence people with their Christmas sweaters and their golden retrievers, knowing nothing about how terrifying life actually was. They seemed carefree and balanced. Happy. He felt hate boiling inside him and then just sadness that he tried to cover with laughs and smiles. He was so used to pretend it came naturally.

But after dessert that night Jess caught him crying in the bathroom, over Dean, over his family, over all these moments he had never lived, and the tears wouldn't stop falling. Too much tension. Jess just took him in her arms and began to chant _"you're ok, i'm here, calm down baby i'm here, you're ok_". And he calmed down. And kissed her. To thank her, he thought, or just because she was there, or maybe because of the words she said. But anyway, it's how it began. Because she was unusual. She didn't judge.

He told her a story about his father being a bounty hunter, dragging them around on his missions while looking for their mother's murderer. Jess said it could seem romantic if they were in a movie, but that in real life, that was just plain wrong. "_We're not in the wild wild west anymore Sam. Your Dad should have let the police do its job and give you a normal life_". That was exactly what he thought and it was nice to see someone else agreed. Dean always said that it was normal to want revenge. But it wasn't. "_Sweety, your Mom is dead, your Dad should have moved on. I can't believe he wanted you to stay with him, that he wasn't even proud of you going to college. Sorry Love but your Dad's a dick. I'm proud of you"._

She didn't see him leaving as a betrayal, she saw it as a healthy choice. He started to really, really like her.

There first time together was Sam's first, but not Jess's. She guided him gently, and made of this moment a delightful and tender one when usually the first time is kind of a disaster. He never said he was inexperienced, and she never mentionned it, or asked about his exes. She just accepted him as he was, without question, because that was the kind of person Jess was. Making love with Jess was sweet and passionnate. There was no violence and no desperation. It was miles away from the raw hunger that possessed him whenever he was close to Dean or whenever he dreamt about him. And actually, the dreams stopped.

He really fell in love with Jess, and he didn't think it could be possible. His heart had always been filled with Dean. Dean took absolutely all the available space. And now he was away, Sam found out there was actually room for other people. Friends for example. Girlfriends. He found out he could also be genuinely happy, like, happy without a second thought. Happy without "_yeah but tomorrow we may as well be dead_".

He understood what Dean meant by "_you have to go away from the darkness_". Dean tried to save him, again, by letting him go, by forcing him to bond with other people. He thought about calling him, to thank him, because since the bus, he hadn't heard of him. But he didn't. He was afraid. He couldn't tell him something like since I'm away from you I've never been better or I don't miss you so much finally. He would have to lie, and Dean would know.

Since now he had plenty of time to read he found himself once, in the psychology section, reading books about dysfunctional families and he really recognized himself in the description. He understood he fell, he thought, "in love" with his brother because he lived such a stressful life that he needed comfort. And so did Dean. It was like being in prison, or being taken hostage. They were always together, always alone. They could only rely on one another. That's why their relationship was unhealthy. That's why brotherly love turned into...whatever it turned into. Because of the lifestyle. Now that he had a normal life, he felt like he could heal from it, that he could love his brother in a healthy way, and also help him get better. He tried to call him, to see how he was, but the phone number didn't work. He wrote a letter and sent it to Bobby's, but he never got an answer. So he tried to move on, to live on.

Time flies when you're happy, and two years went by like it was nothing. Sam and Jess were living together, already thinking about engagement, marriage and children. They had a solid group of friends. Studying had never been so interesting. And he hadn't heard of his brother and father since he left.

And then Dean appeared: John had disappeared on a hunt and he needed Sam's help.

It wasn't true. Dean was actually missing Sam like crazy and didn't know how to come back in his life after two years. Two years he spent hunting, fucking and drinking. He did fall in love though, with that girl Cassie, but it didn't last. After that, Dean thought he was not made for long term relationships, that he never was, and that he should stick to passing waitresses. Loving Cassie was nice, but it lacked of something. He liked to think she wasn't his type or that he didn't really like her personnality.

But truthfully, during those two years he tried to find that sensation he felt when Sam kissed him. That electricity. That feeling of overwhelming love. But it never happened. And looking for it made Dean want to smash mirrors. Dean was far for being inexperienced and what terrorized him the most were his fantasies about what his life could have been if he had followed Sam. Whenever he was resting, daydreaming or falling asleep, his was harassed by visions of his brother. His happy smile, his sad smile...his crinkled nose...his neck...the thin muscles of his arms...the soft skin of his back...Stop. No.

[Busty women, strippers, porn, porn, porn]

Sam.

His body always betrayed his brain.

He began to loathe himself. And that was never going to stop.

He was certain Sam was doing great in college. Of course, he thought, I raised him to do great. So Dean tossed his phone, so Sam couldn't call, and he never answered his letter. He didn't know what to write. Plus Sam seemed happy there, he said he was doing great, that he was grateful for evertything he had done for him. It made Dean almost mad. As if he had wanted to read "_I miss you, come pick me up, I can't stand those jerks I want to be with you_".

Dean was conscious that in spite of him constantly saving Sam's ass, if there was a needy one between them, it was him, and not Sam. Dean couldn't live without Sam. And months after months, Dean's alcoholism was getting worse. He barely talked. And actually he had no one to talk to since he hunted more and more alone. So when his father disappeared, he thought about asking Sam for help. He tried to rationalize it by thinking Sam was the best hunting partner he could possibly ask for, and that he was also concerned, since it was also his Dad. But inside, he was jumping like a 4 years old at the idea of seeing his Sammy again.

When he surprised Sam in his flat, they went into a fight, and Dean felt like shit when his whole body reacted like it was struck by lightning when he touched his brother.

He saw the girlfriend and he instantely hated her, even if she looked sweet and in love with Sam. Because she looked sweet and in love with Sam. Because Sam seemed to love her back. He didn't want to be called Sammy anymore. He was a little cold. No he was just acting brotherly. That was what Dean wanted when he told him to leave. He should have been happy about it, but he felt crushed. It didn't stop him from wearing his cocky smile though and act as if they had seen each other yesterday and in perfectly normal circumstances.

Sam accepted to go with him, but just this time, and Dean had to work hard to hide his excitement. "_You and me! Just like old times!_". But Sam didn't answer something like "_Yeah! I missed it so much!_", instead he said "_I have to be back home for my finals Dean so let's do this quick ok?_". His home wasn't with him anymore. It was with her.

Dean looked at himself in the rearview and saw the bitterness in his eyes. As usual, Sam had quickly fell asleep, and now Dean could stop pretending he was happy. He stared at Sam for a moment, at his sleepy face, at his body which had become more muscular. He must go to a gym, he thought, he's getting big. He began to gently stroke his head, feeling his hair tangling in his fingers, and suddenly his eyes were blurry.

_Why did you start all this if it was to forget all about it and leave me behind_? He thought.

_The answer is simple_, said the Voice, _you asked him to_.

It was a stupid case really. A lady in white. Almost a cliché, almost too easy. But it was great. At least for Dean. He had trouble containing his excitment, and of course he felt let down by Sam's coldness and lack of interest. To be perfectly honest, he felt angry. Sam had done everything he told him to do. Good grades, good life, girlfriend, friends. And as surprising at it may seem, he wasn't at all happy about it.

He was the first to be surprised. He had always thought he only wanted Sam's well being, and things showed to be a little bit more complicated than that. He remembered how violent was the argument between Sam and their father when he left for college. The harsh words. Traitor. Coward. Ingrate. How Sam handled it, like a rock in the middle of a hurricane. So sure of himself. So sure of deserving better. It was written in his eyes. I deserve better, and if I have to walk all over you to find what I need, I will. Dean never had this kind of strength. One hint of disappointment in his father's eyes and he was almost kneeling, begging for forgiveness.

Abandonment original.

Two years ago Dean wanted Sam to leave, but deep down, he would have liked him to stay. He should have seen Dean was unable to leave his father, that he was too afraid of loosing his family and being cast into a world he was unable to understand. But as he always acted strong and unbreakable, Sam couldn't guess any of it. So he listened to his big brother and he left. And he thrived. He lived in a world where he didn't need to be saved by Dean. It was certainly a relief for him, but it also meant Dean's life was a little bit pointless without his job as Sam's care taker.

Sam's happiness away from him was a thorn in Dean's heart, and he hated himself for feeling that. Their father used to say he was the most righteous person of them, but Dean knew really well that there was a reason why his morals were so stiff. There was darkness inside of him, like a hole. Something deep, and scary, like an old mine shaft. Only his principles could keep him on the right tracks. And if he strayed a little from them, he was afraid to turn into someone completely loathesome.

Even more since what hurt him the most was Sam's lack of interest for him. He was the one who came to him once, talking about love and how special they were. And now he was talking like a god damn shrink, using words like dysfunctional and everything. Explaining to him he had understood a lot in two years and that he was sorry (sorry!) for everything that happened before he left. That he was confused. That now, thanks to Jess, he was better. And that he was grateful for Dean letting him go.

Grateful.

Of course, Dean should have been happy that Sam came around and understood his feelings were abnormal. But he wasn't. Because ever since Sam kissed him he had turned his life upside down. He couldn't forget that feeling, he couldn't stop himself from wanting to touch his brother, even if it meant hitting him for no reason. Like when Sam said their mother was dead and they should move on. But you're not supposed to move on from love. If you can, then it isn't love. That's what Sam wasn't able to understand. Their father was chasing Yellow Eyes because he loved their mother, even beyond death. You don't have the right to talk about love if you're not ready to do that kind of things. If Sam could move on from what he felt once, it meant that in spite of everything he said, it wasn't love.

It was just a teenage phase. Sam was now a grown young man who was miles away from the lost and delirious boy who wanted to elope with his big brother.

It became clear that he wasn't coming back anytime soon and that Dean should start moving on, whatever that meant.

So he drove him back to his dorm, and to his precious girlfriend. He tried to keep his happy mask on. Saying goodbye with a smile. Acting detached. When Sam finally got out of the car and entered his building, Dean noticed his right hand was bloody. Without noticing it he had pushed his nails into his palms. He looked at the blood and felt tears falling on his cheeks.

I'm a mess.

His hands were trembling and he tried to wipe the blood out of his right palm with an old bandana, trying to focus on the wound and not on the void he felt inside of him, like a blackhole, swallowing all the remaining light he had. Something primal inside him was crying. Hating that girl for stealing Sam. Wanting her gone. And Dean was trying hard to silence it, using his moral code, repeating himself that letting Sam live his life was the right thing to do, that wanting to bind his brother to him was wrong, that yearning for whatever it was yearning for was despicable.

The fire interrupted his internal battle.

He rushed to Sam's appartment and found him in the middle of a blaze. Jess was pinned on the ceiling like a butterfly, just like their mother all those years ago. Dean forcibly dragged a screaming Sam outside, while the flat was devastated by an supernatural fire. Dean felt that he was to be crushed by a wave of guilt as soon as Sam would be safe outside. And that's exactly what happened.

Sam was in shock, sit on the Impala, refusing to say a word. And Dean didn't know what to do, excep looking at the firefighters trying to put out the fire, knowing that it wouldn't be easy. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he had a sour taste in his mouth, thinking that only a few minutes ago, something inside him wanted Jess gone.

He came back to check on Sam, and saw him checking on the guns, looking emotionless. He turned to Dean and said:

"We have work to do".

Dean was devastated. Something inside him was glad.

At Jess's funeral, Dean witnessed how appreciated his brother was. By his in-laws, his friends. Everybody was coming to him saying his brother was such a great guy. He felt stupidly proud. Somehow he did have a good influence on his brother, he raised him well.

The last four days had been a living nightmare. Sam wouldn't sleep, or talk, or eat. And he wouldn't come to Dean for comfort. He didn't want to be touched. A simple hand on his shoulder was unbearable. Dean was torn between being deeply sorry for Sam's loss, and being glad to have him back. But he didn't have time for selfhate, he had to find a way to take care of Sam, to rebuild their bond. Because his brother was withering and for now there was nothing he could do.

The moment he had come back in his brother's life he had brought tragedy in it. And even if he knew it wasn't his fault, he was afraid Sam would think the contrary. That somehow, seeing his brother again had scealed Jess's fate.

Sam finally cried at the funeral. His friends found the right words and the right gestures to comfort him and help him release his pain. Dean felt powerless, and wondered if Sam wouldn't be better with them, instead of leaving everything for revenge. But Sam insisted on coming with him, and since that moment, Dean made himself a promise.

He would, starting right now, be a better brother for Sam. He would stop being jealous of him bonding with other people. He would forget about all those feelings hidden in the dark corners of his soul. And he would let him go back to his life whenever he wanted to.

He was never able to keep any of those.


	3. Mother Hen

After Jess's funeral, Sam went into a state of temporary amnesia for a few days.

Their time together felt like it happened 20 years ago, and he had trouble remembering what they had done together, where they went on holiday. He was mixing their friends names, his teachers names. He even had trouble finding his way on the campus.

I'm in shock, clearly. He thought. But knowing it didn't help him get better. Or sleep better. Or anything. He wasn't hungry. He had always been a lightweight, as Dean would say, but now he was just not interested in feeding more than necessary. Necessary meaning keeping his body and his mind functioning. His back and his arms perpetually ached, and he knew this was a symptom of anxiety. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins for absolutely no reason, he had nothing real to flee from, no predator, no...tiger or bear. Just grief. And in that kind of situation there is just nowhere to go. Nothing to do.

He woke up at night, almost every night, breathing heavily, after seeing Jess burning on his ceiling, over and over again. He tried to calm himself but most of the time, there was nothing he could do. Whenever he tried to think about happy moments, she was coming back in his mind, and the pain became worse. So much worse that Sam started to regret not burning with her. Dean should have let him burn. Because there was no way he would track down and kill Jess murderer if he couldn't have just one minute of peace. He was helpless. He never knew how to deal with his anxiety alone.

Dean used to help him calm his panic attacks, and then, Jess did. He could see Dean was worried and wanted to help but he couldn't stand him being too close. Dean represented hunting. And even if he knew it was completely unfair, his brother was the living representation of what killed Jessica. The hunting underworld. All those things he tried to forget. All those things normal people were not concerned with. All those things Jess protected him from. Plus he saw something in Dean's eyes when he introduced him to Jess. Jealousy. Dean was looking at her like a predator, staring at a rival and evaluating its strength.

Sam couldn't believe his eyes. Had he always been like that? He tried to remember how Dean behaved with his school friends. He remembered he was always too critical. Always insisting on how they would soon leave. Sam had always thought he was actually talking about himself and his inability to make friends, trying to justify it, but what if he wasn't? What if he was simply stating that Sam shouldn't have any other friend than him, because Dean didn't have any other friend than Sam? Sam had evolved a lot in two years, but Dean had remained the same.

And it surprisingly ached. There was something inside Sam telling him he should come to Dean for comfort because Dean always knows best, because Dean knows how to make things better, because a hug, a hair ruffle and mac&cheese would be nice. I'm not a kid anymore, thought Sam. And if there is something I won't do it's re-creating that dysfunctional bond that led me to think I was in love with my own brother. That led him to think whatever pushed him to feel jealousy towards Jess.

Even more so since Dean was surprisingly acting very brotherly. Actually, he was treating Sam as if he was a 12 years old, calling him Sammy even if Sam didn't like it, cooking him his favorite childhood meals, and even buying him his favorite cereals when Sam had not eaten them in ten years. Sam felt a little guilty for being so protective of himself and refusing Dean's help, but he still didn't feel safe around him.

Their first cases were interesting and diverting, and Sam tried to be the most professional he could. It reminded him how close they were with Dean when they began hunting together for the first time. He was 12, actually, when their father allowed him to accompany them on jobs, charging Dean of his brother's training. That was actually how their friendship was born. Before that, Dean was mostly his parent. With hunting, he became his friend. And Sam really needed a friend then. And now. Especially when he started to develop psychic abilities that scared the hell out of him.

So very slowly, he began to let Dean become that friend again. It was hard. Because they were both adults and because Dean was still stupidly following all his father's orders. At some point, Sam had to leave him temporarily since he would prefer hunt something because-dad-said-so instead of actually finding him, wherever he was hiding. Plus Sam was angry at his father for acting all mysterious when he knew Sam had lost his girlfriend and was certainly badly hurt. But that was John Winchester, he wasn't the kind of person to worry about his sons emotional state until he had to visit them to a psychiatric ward.

But they became friends again. And Sam even let Dean help him with a panic attack, one night he had one worse than the others. They were sleeping in a motel, again, and Sam woke up with a smell of burning flesh in his nose. The whole room was on fire but he couldn't feel the heat. Jess was on the ceiling, looking at him, while burning. And he couldn't move. He couldn't close his eyes. Her skin was roasting, becoming black but she was still smiling at him. Dean was in the other bed, sleeping as if everything was normal. Sam called him. "_Dean wake up! Dean help! Help me! Help her_!", but Dean wouldn't move, and Jess kept on burning. He began to scream. And was awaken by a violent slap on his cheek.

_"I'm sorry Sammy but you wouldn't wake up"_

Sam looked at Dean, eyes filled with tears, and he saw in Dean's eyes he exactly knew what was going to happen. Dean sat right behind Sam, putting his brother's back against his chest, and began to gently caress his forehead with his right hand, while holding him tightly with his left arm. Two seconds after, Sam started hyperventilating and convulsing._ "Listen to my voice Sammy, it's all right. You're not smothering, everything's fine. Breathe with me ok little brother? 1,2,3,4 now breathe out 1,2,3,4"_ he said, while pushing on Sam's chest with his flat hand. He began to talk about the day when a 7 years old Sam brought an injured squirrel home, because he wanted a pet, and how he hid him in a shoe box and raised him with Dean for 3 weeks before releasing him into the woods. Sam started to calm down. And cry.

_"It's ok Sammy, let go"_

Sam turned around and buried his face in Dean's shirt, holding him so tight that now Dean had trouble breathing. Just like he was little, he hid his face in his brother's neck, his closed eyes against the soft and warm skin just under Dean's ear. It still smelled the same, like Dean's favorite cologne, warmth...and home.

Sam was crying like a child, with big sobs, while trying to say something.

_"What? What Sammy, calm down I don't understand..."_

_"I can't...I can't..." _

_"You can't what?" _said Dean, petting Sam's hair. Sam raised his face and looked at Dean.

_"Do it alone"_

_"Do what alone?"_

_"Everything. Grieving, hunting, living. I tried. But I can't. I'm so tired Dean I wish...I wish I burned with her"_

Sam then saw tears appear in Dean's eyes, and now his brother was hugging him.

_"God Sammy...Why don't you let me help?"_

Sam could just hold his brother's shirt and try to calm down, breathing this familiar scent and listening to Dean's heartbeat. He had promised himself he would never act like this again, and yet there he was, diving right back in their old habits. In Dean running his fingers in his hair, in him always looking for comfort and safety in his brother's arms. But he hadn't felt that calm in weeks. That was the effect Dean had always had on him, and he now desperately needed him to take the pain away and say everything's gonna be fine Sammy, I promise.

_"I know...things happened between us and...we both went separate ways but...I'm still your big brother, 'kay?"_

_"Mm-mm"_ muttered Sam, his face back in Dean's neck.

_"You don't have to do it alone. I can take care of you, until you get better. And when you're better, when that son of a bitch is dead, then you'll do whatever you want. You'll go back to Stanford or you'll stay with Dad and me."_

_"You really mean it?"_ Sam just sounded very childish.

_"Course I mean it. I know I've been...a dick, let's say. You have the right to want different things, I respect that. I saw how great you did in college and believe it or not, I'm proud of you. Of what you've accomplished. I'm not Dad, you know. I just hope...I just hope the day you go back to your life we won't stay another two years without seeing each other, is all."_

Sam looked at Dean, who was sadly smiling. He felt grateful for having him and guilty for having left him. The reasons why he had thought their relationship could be damaging were becoming blurrier and blurrier.

"_You know, I guess I'm just like a mother hen. I don't want my little one to leave the nest."_

Sam imagined Dean as an hen and started to laugh like a little kid.

_"Ha! I prefer to see you laugh. Wipe your tears big boy",_ Dean said, wiping Sam's face with the bed sheet.

Sam hugged him tight. It was good to have his brother back. He realized how much he had actually missed him those last two years. Immensely.

On Deans side, on the other hand, this moment would be remembered as a heartbreaking one.

The one when he realized again that Sam wasn't to stay with him for too long.

He knew he had said exactly what he was supposed to say, the right thing, but the problem was he didn't think a word of it. He wanted Sam with him, desperately. Holding him made him feel better than he had been in more than two years. Complete. Helping him made him finally feel useful. It gave his life his purpose back. But if his life's purpose was helping Sam, it also meant that for the sake of keeping it, Sam had to remain in need of his help. And that was definitely twisted. Even for someone who doesn't believe or care about psychology. But he had made himself the promise of being a good brother and he intended to keep it.

He would do what a normal parent would do. Help the little one getting better and teach him how to fly again. Not cutting his wings and assuring him it's better to stay in the nest because the outside world is scary as hell.

After some time they were finally reunited with their father, and Dean had trouble containing his joy to see the family reunited. It even seemed like John wasn't mad at Sam anymore. Well he didn't go as far as apologizing for insulting his son and not contacting him for two years but it was already a big step wich actually made Sam cry. Dean knew Sam had always been longing for a closer relationship with his father, and had always regretted his father's coldness towards him.

John cared about his well-being but he clearly didn't love him as much he loved Dean. When he was little, Dean used to tell him Dad was a little cold with him because he looked a lot like their mom, and that Dad was still really, really sad because of Mom's death. "So you see, he actually loves you very much Sammy, he's just sad and not good with words". But Dean knew it wasn't true. For some reason, John had a problem with Sam. He sometimes looked at him in a strange way, when Sam was saying something unusual or just plain weird, like all kids do. Once Dean remembered Sam was watching TV and said he wished some cartoon character would die, and John went into a fury, telling him he should never wish for people to die. Dean tried to calm his father down, saying Sam was just a 4 years old, and that he was not talking about someone but a talking rabbit. John slapped him and said "I am his father!". Sam cried, ran to Dean and yelled "You're mean! I don't love you anymore", and John almost hit him before realizing he was terrorizing two defenseless children.

Dean could still see his father walk out of the room and leaving them alone for the night. How afraid he was he would never come back. How relieved he was when he came back in the morning, bringing orange juice and bear claws, apologizing and hugging them. Dean then smelled something in his breath he would later recognize as booze.

John claimed he was really close to catch Yellow Eyes, so that was why he had left, so his sons wouldn't be caught in the crossfire, since demons were actively looking for him. Sam seemed to believe his father wanted to protect them, but Dean was afraid he understood it in a totally different way. John didn't want the demons to use his sons to get to him. Which was something completely different. To be honest, he almost laughed when he heard his father say he didn't want them hurt, since he couldn't remember how many times since he was 4 he was put in danger by his father. Three years ago, Sam would have openly laughed at John. But lately it seemed he had really regressed to his younger self, and had the need to trust people. That was certainly a step in his recovery process, but it didn't make him very clairvoyant, for a psychic.

Anyway, it didn't matter. Because Dean, despite of knowing all this, couldn't stop himself from acting like a puppy around his father. See Daddy? I did good! Are you proud of me Daddy? Are you? Are you? Do you love me?

He was so pathetic.

Dean had read once in a girly magazine that parents are supposed to love their children without conditions. "Unconditional love", they called it. It made him laugh like a maniac. And since he was in a barber's shop, people were staring at him, wondering what was so funny. He apologized - "girly stuff, sorry" - and put the magazine back on the pile. John only loved him when he was a good little soldier. Obedient, silent, complacent.

The final moments to the epic battle with Azazel made Dean wonder how they survived all those years. They seemed so un-prepared. And the demons so organized. Of course, John didn't conceal to Sam the fact that the demon only targetted families with a six months old baby, as if the information was needed to be known by Sam who was barely better. He also snapped at them for not talking about Sam's new abilities when he was the one not answering his phone.

Dean thought John wasn't the one who woke up at night to help Sam breathing. He wasn't the one who forced him to eat. Who kept him alive all these months. Who told him whatever those abilities were it didn't change who he was, and that he would love him whatever strange thing he was able to do. He realized Sam never asked him to be someone he wasn't, and always saw him in a positive way. He understood what Sam felt all those years ago when he said they deserved better. He slowly figured out what unconditional meant. It meant what Sam and him had.

Because he had always been too reckless, John managed to be captured and possessed by Azazel, who decided it was a perfectly good moment to tell Sam the reason he killed their mother and Jessica was because he was part of some kind of masterplan, and not them. Dean was pinned on the wall but he could feel his brother's guilt destroying him. He wanted to skin that demon alive, being in his father's body or not. The violence boiling inside him scared him. He could litterally see himself torture his father, and enjoying it.

But he was powerless. And then the demon started slowly killing him. Being unable to react was worst than the pain, and when he felt himself close to dying, he could only think of how he regretted...how he regretted...

Finally, John managed to take over his body, freeing Dean who collapsed on the floor, and Sam shot his father in the leg. He asked his son to kill him with the last bullet, but Sam refused. He didn't want to lose any more loved one.

Surprisingly, the demon then left John's body, who was quick at blaming Sam for not killing Azazel. Sammy answered something like "family matters" and Dean had an internal laugh. It was like Sam was quoting him, just like when he was a kid. He felt happy to see the three of them together, even if he was a little bitter about his father's attitude.

This last year taught him one thing, there was only one person he wanted to spend time with. Sam. Even if he knew it was weird and that his father would probably shoot him if he knew, he wanted to be with Sam. Always.

He looked at his brother in the rearview. His eyes, his smile, his blood. Blood he wanted to wipe with his thumb, and then maybe taste. His mind was drifting away. He was badly hurt after all. So he hadn't any control on his thoughts. The pain was so overwhelming.

He looked at Sam and thought he was the person he loved the most in the entire earth. He thought he would let anyone, everyone, die if it was to save Sam's life. Even his father.

He looked at Sam and he thought he should have followed him when he asked him three years ago. That's what he regretted the most.

Because now it was too late. They were a family again and a realization crushed Dean's heart.

I don't want that.

I'm not a mother hen. Or a parent. Or a brother.

I want him to love me again.

Despite all his efforts, and all his promises and vows, it was still there. That feeling. His lips. His words. His tears. His love. All that was gone now. Because of him. Because he asked him to forget and Dean always knows best.

When a truck destroyed the Impala. Dean's last thought was hoping he would die.


	4. Lovers

Sam is in his room in the bunker, listening to music. He tries to relax, but really, he can't. His eyes are closed, he's breathing slowly, and even if he doesn't show any sign of anxiety, he can feel the familiar pain of adrenaline rushes in his limbs.

He doesn't have panic attacks anymore. They gradually stopped. He thinks that being exposed to so much violence cured him. Well in some ways. He doesn't have crisis anymore, he just feels constantly on edge, afraid, angry, bored, nostalgic, and that's just like, you know, being in a wheelchair. You can be mad at it but at some point, you have to move, push the wheels, and get used to the fact you can't walk anymore.

Dean is in the library, pretending to research. Dean has never liked that, so Sam isn't duped by his sudden interest for long and boring esoteric books. He knows something's wrong with Dean, really wrong. Certainly linked to the Blade. But Dean being Dean, he won't talk about it, and he will just drown himself in bourbon until he does something stupid and finally admits that yeah, something's definitely not good.

Sam's still mad at him for what happened with Gadriel, and most of all Kevin. Well mad...it's not even that. It's more like...life, the universe whatever, is always trying to show them they shouldn't be together, and that by refusing to listen, they provoke death and chaos. Sam loves Dean, but he's always known that nothing good could come of this love if they remained hunters.

There were moments in his life when he thought about quitting. When Dean thought about quitting. Sometimes, Sam dreamt about what their life could be, if they moved to a sunny place, or in another country, why not, and lived as a couple. Where nobody had to know they were brothers. But the first time he kissed Dean during breakfast he understood that it wouldn't happen in a long time, or that it would never happen at all. Dean shove him away, and said _"someone could see us_".  
As much as Dean loves him, and he knows how he does, in an almost deranged way, he's still in denial. He still insists on them being brothers, being family, and Sam sometimes want to shake him and say "_Most of all, we're lovers, we're a couple, even if you don't want to say it, to even pronounce the word_.". Dean's always said they had to be careful because their bond could be used against them. It makes Sam want to scream "_How many times has it already been used?_".

In the beginning, Sam had this silly reflex of saying "_I love you, bye_" on the phone. Using stupid nicknames like "_love_". Touching Dean's shoulder, embracing him, smiling at him...The things you do when you're a couple, the things you do when you're in love. He saw very quickly that Dean had problems with that, and it even got worse every year. During the day, they had to act like brothers.  
At night, or when they were really alone, Dean turned into a completely different person. Clinging to him. Calling him "_baby_", even. With anyone else, it would have seemed ridiculous, but Dean saying that word was...moving. It meant all his guards were down. Which didn't happen a lot. At night he could say things like "_I love you so much it freaks me out_", "_don't ever leave again_" or "_the world can go to hell, if i'm with you i don't care_"...

And that's precisely the problem. Dean isn't ready to live their relationship in public, but he is ready to sacrifice anything or anyone for them to be together. To Sam, the first option seems way easier to do, but Dean has never been very logical. Plus, even if he still doesn't want to admit it, everybody knows. Or so. Castiel knows, and really doesn't care. The entire Hell knows. Bobby knew, or guessed, but never talked about it. Kevin also guessed.  
So basically, there's absolutely no reason for them to go on pretending they're just brothers.

When you're in a relationship, you have to make efforts. You have to listen to the other, you have to make arrangements... And Dean doesn't want any of that. He thinks of them as some kind of siamese twins, he thinks he can decide for Sam, and that it's perfectly ok because he's Sam's, and Sam's his. He doesn't want to let go of his big brother's prerogatives, his conviction he knows best, and yes sometimes he did know best, and sometimes he just didn't.

He managed to convince Sam that he always let him down. When actually, when he thinks about it...He never really did. He made mistakes, yes he did, but he never let Dean down, he just tried to be his own person. With Ruby, he was trying to save Dean, and then the world. Ruby betrayed him. Shit happens. No one can honestly blame him for his soulless moments. And as for purgatory...

He didn't know what to do. He had no one to turn to and... Dean told him to let go if he died. But that was so very Dean to tell you the right thing (like, we're brother, we can't have that kind of relationship) and then want you to do exactly the contrary (like crawling into his bed at night).

He's still sorry about Purgatory, he is.

But Sam was happy with Amelia and he tossed everything the moment Dean came back. If that wasn't a proof of his love well, what could be? Yes Dean dumped Lisa when Sam came back, but he was the first one to say he wasn't in love with her and that this life was killing him. So what was the problem? That Sam could actually bond wtih someone else?  
And then again, "_I want you to have a way out and a normal life with a girl_" becomes "_I want you to mourn me for the rest of your life_". How is he supposed to know what he has to do if Dean is constantly dishonest?

They had a terrible fight about that once, after the whole Ruby episode. They were eating burgers in a diner and Dean had ketchup on the corner of his mouth. Sam wiped it with his fingers and licked it, and Dean told him, looking angry

"_What the hell are you doing?"_

_"Wiping ketchup out of your face"_

_"You know what I'm talking about. Don't do that."_

_"What are you so afraid of? We don't know anyone. And I don't think demons are interested in burgers."_

Dean looked nervous. So Sam began, raising his voice a little.

_"You're ashamed?"_

_"What?"_ replied Dean, almost whispering.

_"Of me. Of us. Of what we do."_

Dean caught his wrist and dragged him out on the parking lot

_"What the hell Sam?!_"

Sam laughed.

_"What? Are you? You're afraid people are going to think we're gay?"_

Dean didn't answer.

_"Because we are indeed fucking Dean. We are."_

_"Don't..."_

Dean looked mad.

_"What, is the word 'fucking' bothering you? Because I remember you asking for..."_

He was interrupted by a violent slap.

_"What's wrong with you?"_

Sam would have liked to be strong enough to continue being sarcastic, but he just started to cry like an idiot.

_"Well tell me, you' were the one who was supposed to kill me if I turned out evil. So why don't you just do it right now if you can't stand ..."_

He took out his gun and handed it to Dean. He knew it was completely over the top, but he felt so deeply hurt by Dean's rejection that he didn't know what else to say.  
Dean took the gun, then put it in his jeans and hugged Sam, apologizing. Saying he loved him, again and again. They drove back to their motel and there Dean tried to prove that to him in every possible way. And he believed him.

It's useless to even mention how crazy he's always been about Dean's touch. And he still is. Right now, he knows exactly what would help him relax and what would make all the tensions go away. But he has to be strong enough to resist going to Dean and asking him to do what he does best beside hunting. He remembers their first time. And the simple thought of it makes his heart race and his body burn. He wants to walk out that door, walk to the library, throw all the books on the ground and..._Calm down. You know it's no good._

They have not touched each other since the trials, because Dean always said Sam was too tired to do anything, and after, well because...obviously Sam wasn't alone in his body. He remembers how frustrated he felt, he even snapped at Dean once, telling him no, he was fine god damn it, could he just stop being so overprotective? So he tried to kiss Dean, to show him how much he wanted him. And Dean pushed him away saying "no", quite violently, and Sam asked him

_"So that's it? You don't want me anymore?"_

And getting mean

_"Well that's right you have your precious angel, and now he's human so I suppose..."_

He never liked Castiel. Especially when Dean said crap like "we're family" about him. And forgave him so quickly for the Leviathan episode when Sam had to apologize over and over again for every single thing he did wrong.

Dean watched him with incredulous eyes and said

_"What the hell are you talking about?"_

Sam laughed.

_"What? You think I'm an idiot?"_

_"You can't seriously be thinking I'm..."_

_"Fucking Cas? Aren't you?"_

Dean came close to Sam and shook him a little, holding his shoulders.

_"Are you nuts? Listen to yourself! Cas is our friend..."_

_"Your friend"_

Sam knew he was acting "like a little bitch", to quote Dean, but he couldn't stop himself. He knew he was walking quite a self destructive path these last few months, and pityful jealousy eating him alive was just a new part of it. Why did Dean stop him during the final trial if it was to reject him all over again?

_"Yeah right, if you want, my friend. And I don't... Damn Sammy!"_

_"Then what's stopping you?"_ said Sam, forcibly grabbing Dean's butt.

_"Kevin's here, for starters. And so is Crowley."_

Dean tried to push Sam's hands away.

_"Yeah right. Like they don't...whatever..."_

_"And you're still sick."_

_"I'm sick of you lying to me, that's it."_, Sam said, teary eyed. Because he was indeed tired.

Dean finally kissed him, and wiped his tears with his thumb, saying, _"You see? you are tired. And I'm not lying to you, now please...Sammy, baby, look at me, please...get some rest ok? I love you"._

It was so rare, that tenderness in the middle of the day that Sam believed him. He wanted so desperately to believe him. To believe in them. He let Dean walk him to his room and tuck him in his bed as if he were 10.

Dean says he's the one who loves him the most but he doesn't want them to be together for some reason. He accuses him of letting him down - and Sam had to be on the verge of dying for him to admit it was unfair - when he's the one who turns to other people. Like his "friendship" with Castiel. Or with Benny.  
Sam sometimes wants to yell at him,_ I could be that for you if you just let me. If you just stopped for five minutes wanting to decide everything that happens in our lives, of you just dropped your war mask. If you just let me be your equal._

Sam wonders if Dean realized he was ready to die in that church because he understood his brother would never acknowledge what they are. Because he had already lost everything and if Dean could replace him with his angels, vampire and demons friends, well he was tired and he just wanted to let go of life. Dean always says he sacrificed everything for the job but truly, he can't live in the outside world. He can't have a normal wife, a normal family, a job, friends, and he knows it. It doesn't even bother him anymore. Sam did sacrifice everything, and Dean also knows it. Sam doesn't know how many times Dean told him to use his way out, in a very Dean way, meaning please don't use it and stay here with me . What he doesn't seem to understand is that Sam has been waiting for years, years...for Dean to realize that now, as much as 10 years ago, he wants to go with him. To take his seat in that God damn bus.

Dean says he's the one who loves him the most, but he's wrong. Sam is the one who's proud of who they are. Who's supportive of him. Who doesn't blame him excessively. Dean never questions himself. He buries his guilt somewhere in his brain, under a pile of Jack's bottles and just keeps on living.

Maybe it's time for Sam to move on. He's done it in the past. He already knows the feeling. He just has to brace himself for the heartbreak. Because if Dean wants to stay buried in their so called legacy, Sam doesn't.

He wants to live.

He just have to wait for that final quest to end. Hoping it won't result in Dean being even more broken. And then, when everything is back to normal, he will ask him again.

He will ask him again if he wants to come with him, and if he doesn't, Sam will have to be strong, and leave him behind.

It's hard. So hard. Dean is locked up in his fortress of hurt and denial, and it's impossible to reach him there. Sam almost regrets telling him what he said after Kevin's death. He hoped it would result in Dean opening up, but it was quite the contrary. And now when Sam tries to ask him how he is, he just shuts like a clam.

If he just admitted he's afraid...

Afraid of being alone, of being abandoned, of being left behind... He always puts such a pressure on himself just as when John was still alive and could turn him into a mess just by stopping to talk to him. By leaving him alone with a toddler for days, knowing that he could die on the job and then, who would have known there were two little children there, in that motel room in Shithole, Nebraska?

When he thinks about Dean as a child, Sam always feels terribly sad. Even more since he reached 30 years old, more or less the age his father had when their mother died. Sam doesn't have children of course, but he knows what kind of father he would be, if tomorrow someone dropped a 4 years old in the bunker. Or if he stumbled upon two little kids alone in a motel room. He knows that scared little boy is still somewhere inside his brother, locked in a dark corner of his mind, constantly crying and asking for love. Sam would like to talk to him, to comfort him, but the door to his room is guarded by Dean the soldier, who's always ok, who doesn't suffer, and who, lately, has a tendency to love torturing enemies a little too much.

Sam is afraid the Mark is giving way too much power to the Soldier.

It even worries Castiel. He saw it in his eyes, when he asked him to watch over Dean. And Castiel is not Mr Display-Of-Emotion so it's definitely not a good thing.

Without realizing it, Sam has got up of his bed and walked to the library. Even if he doesn't want to worry, he still does. Dean hasn't talked since they drove back from their enconter with Metatron, or should they call him God now, and it's already...3 in the morning so he should be sleeping instead of reading.

He's sit in front of a pile of books, angrily reading, if that's even possible. He doesn't even try to hide the almost empty bottle of bourbon he's been drinking since he arrived. Sam coughs.

_"Hmm-mm. Can't sleep?"_

Dean looks at him, expressionless.

_"You can't either_ _, so it seems."_

Sam walks slowly towards Dean, and sits beside him.

_"I was thinking about making some tea...you want a coffee?"_

Dean sighs.

_"Why not."_

Sam goes to the kitchen, trying to look natural. He can feel Dean's coldness almost physically. His hands are shaking. Calm down. Ten minutes later he's back in the library, and Dean's bottle is empty. He tries not to show he noticed.

_"Here you go."_, he says, giving Dean his mug.

_"Thanks"_, replies Dean who begins to drink his boiling coffee.

_"Hey careful that's really hot!"_

Dean puts his mug back on the table, and gives a curious, but absolutely not amused, look at Sam.

_"So now you're worried?"_

Sam wasn't expecting that so soon. That's not going to be easy.

_"Dean..."_

_"What?"_

_"I just don't want you to burn your tongue. That's it."_

_"M'fine."_

He drinks more coffee, and pretends to go back to his book. Sam insists.

_"Dean?"_

No reaction.

_"Dean I know what I said... But it doesn't mean I don't care about you. About your well-being."_

Sam sees Dean's back muscles getting tense. He looks like a crouching tiger, ready to attack. Sam has to be ready for retreat.

_"I'm worried."_

Dean violently turns a page, almost ripping it off. It's time to leave.

_"I uh...I'll be in my room, 'kay? Don't...hesitate...if you need anything"_

Dean continues reading, not saying a word.

Sam walks to his room, certainly looking a little stiff. When he shuts the door, he can finally let go, and he collapses on his bed. He feels like he really needs to cry, or to scream, or to have a good old panic attack but nothing's coming, so he just puts his headphones back, with some Sigur Ros (_Islandic minimalist post-rock band? Are you even serious?,_ had said Dean, the first time Sam made him listen to some) and tries to fall asleep.

At some point he certainly did, because he wakes up with the light out and his headphones on the bedside table. He turns on the light, and grabs his phone to see what time it is. It's 5 in the morning. He still has some time to sleep.

He suddenly feels a presence, right behind him.

He turns around. It's Dean. Dean came into his bed. And he's asleep. Or pretends to be asleep, it's not clear. His breathing is calm and even, but then again...

It doesn't matter. He's here.

Sam kisses him on the forehead, and whispers "_I'm right here with you_" in Dean's ear.

And instinctively, Dean grabs his brother's shirt and pulls him close, burying his face in his neck. That's precisely what Sam used to do when he was little. He seems so defenseless...Maybe that finally, the soldier fell asleep and let the boy go out.

Sam hugs Dean, and smoothes his hair. Dean breathes heavily and says something unintelligible. His fists are clenched, holding Sam's shirt so strongly that his knuckles are white. Sam begins to gently pet his hands, and says

"_Relax...relax...I'm not leaving..._"

Dean lets go of his shirt, and Sam holds him closer. He feels a tear falling out of his eye.

That's why Dean is so hard to leave.

Whatever happens, whatever he does, whatever he becomes.

They're still lovers.


	5. His Job

When Dean wakes up, Sam is still asleep. He's so beautiful when he sleeps, so calm. He certainly didn't even noticed Dean was there, he's always slept like the dead, since he was little. It's probably for the best.

Dean gets out of the bed very silently and exits the room, not without looking one last time at Sam, feeling nostalgic. There were moments in his life when he could have enjoyed waking up with him, and he didn't. They always took two queens bedrooms. Well he always wanted two beds, Sam on the other hand...

For the first time in years, Dean needs to smoke.

He's never been a heavy smoker, because John would have killed him if had known. He resented smokers, though he had absolutely no problem with Dean hitting the bottle. John Winchester's logic at its best. Dean walks out the bunker, and decides to go to the next town by foot, to clear his head. Plus it's seven in the morning and nothing will be open until eight, so it gives him time. If Sam could see him right now, he would laugh his ass off.

_What, you're walking? Is the car broken? Are you possessed? Who are you, what have you done with my brother?_

Dean smiles a little. It's been a long time since he last did.

He feels better this morning. Well he was able to sleep for a start. Four hours, all right, but for him, it's a good night. He's never been able to sleep for long. It's the habit of being on guard duty since he was a kid.

_Guard duty_. John and his god damn military fantasy.

Maybe that's why he's smaller than Sam. He read somewhere that when you're little, you grow up when you're sleeping so... he should tell that to the Sasquatch when he gets home. Sasquatch... It's been a long time since he last called Sam that.

His eyes are tingling. Well the wind is quite chilly so...

Anyway he feels better today. That's the effect Sam has on him, even if it pains to admit it sometimes. Sam makes the world seem brighter. Just like when he was little and decided the motel room was a castle, or a fort, or a spaceship. You could actually see it turning into whatever he wanted it to be. What was he dreaming about yesterday? Dean wonders what would have happened if Sam had woke up last night. Would he have asked him to leave?

Why does he even need to ask himself that kind of question...

He didn't even want to come to Sam's bed. It's just that...he was drunk, and angry and...scared. Scared of what he did to Gadriel. How he punched him and couldn't stop. It reminded him of his time in Hell. All those years of torture. Among other things. Things he never told Sam. Things he don't even have the words to describe. After all that, no wonder Alastair thought he was his best pupil...

He likes it. He likes hurting others. Killing. He's always tried to convince himself it was because he was doing the right thing, saving people-hunting things-family business but maybe that he's just a serial killer. If you think about it, he did save a lot of people, but he also killed a lot of others who were not dangerous. He realized it quite recently but he still thinks about it a lot. What does he like so much about killing?

The feeling of power? Certainly. He has absolutely no power over his life and killing definitely sets the balance straight.

Or maybe it's just because that's a moment he can finally express all the violence he has inside him, deep in his inner "mine shaft", where he doesn't want to look. Something dark came out of it while he was with Gadriel. All the repressed anger, all the fear, all the "yes sir"s, the loneliness, and the pain and...

He would like to blame it on the Mark. But deep down, he knows it's always been there, waiting for its time to shine.

Sam doesn't see him like that. That's why he needed him last night. He's always loved the look of adoration Sam had when he was little, and the deep, deep love he could see in his gaze and every move he made when he was older. He's always loved how Sam thinks he's better than hunting, how he deserves so much more... What he told him still hurts like hell. He tried to give him the silent treatment, just like John did when he didn't respect an order but in the end...it made him hate himself even more, because if he's afraid of one thing beside becoming a monster, it's becoming John second of his name.

He remembers when John gave his life to save his. How puzzled he was in the beginning. _What? So he loves me after all? Or does he just want me to continue his quest?_

He was dying on a hospital bed from the injuries consecutive to Yellow Eyes' torture and the car accident, and John made a deal with Azazel. His life and the Colt for Dean's. And he did tell Dean everything he had always wanted to hear like "_forgive me for giving you so much responsibilities when you were a kid"_, _"I'm proud of you"_... Dean was so moved he only thought afterwards that he had to be dying for his father to admit he had been treating him like crap and for granted for years. And he even added that he had to look after Sam, as usual, and that if he couldn't save him, he would have to kill him.

Way to go Dad.

That's why Dean wondered, right after John's funeral, if his sacrifice wasn't about saving him, but about finishing the job. John was never able to work with Sam, and if Sam was in danger, for some reason, he would never be able to protect him. Because he would be bossy, and a god damn pain in the ass, and that Sam would slam the door in his face and go away.

Which he still does sometimes.

So that was maybe strategy. Everything was strategy with John. Even instillating guilt in Dean's mind from a very early age. To make him the good little soldier he was. Always saying yes sir, always respecting orders, never complaining a minute, even when John left him alone in a foster facility, after he had stolen some food, because he had lost the money John had given him.

_"I hope it taught you_ _a lesson_", he said, when he came to pick Dean up, after weeks.

Dean looked at Sammy, who was already hugging him tight, and said

_"Yes sir"_

He had considered staying in foster care, but when he saw Sam in his father's car his resolve disappeared.

There was no way he would leave Sam alone with him. He remembers very clearly having thought John would destroy him. So how could he be so desperate for this man's attention when he perfectly knew how destructive he was?

Did John realize asking Dean to potentially kill Sam was the worst thing he had ever done? He knew how deep, how strong their bond was. How many times did he use it against them? Against Dean? Telling him keeping Sam safe was his job was the best way to bind him. _If Sam's hurt I will hold you responsible_, he said, before leaving them for days, before sending them on jobs, before sending Sam alone on jobs, when he was barely fifteen and it made Dean insomniac just to think about what could happen to him. And the one time Dean threatened to leave - he was 21 and John had left them for three weeks in the middle of winter in an old house with barely enough money to eat - John made it clear that if he left, it would be without Sam.

_"He's a minor, he's under my responsibility, not yours"_

Dean had laughed bitterly and John had slammed him to a wall, asking if he was questioning his authority, and then saying that if he walked out that door he could consider he had no more family, that he was dead to him.

Pretty much what he told Sam when he left for college.

The difference was Dean never had the guts to tell him to go fuck himself. He couldn't. Sam tried. He tried to defend him, yelling at John he hated him. But he was so slender then, when John slapped him it almost knocked him off. Dean picked him up and helped him to walk to his bed before apologizing to John and promising he would stay. Later at night, Sam came to hug Dean and thank him over and over for not leaving him alone with their father.

In John's presence, Dean was always careful not to show how much he cared about Sam. He always insisted on this being his "job", as assigned by his father. And when Sam left, pretending he "resigned", that he stopped caring, was the most difficult thing ever. But he had to do this to protect Sam, and to protect himself. If John had known the extent of Dean's love for Sam, he would have used it even more.

John taught him that when you love, you expose yourself. That love can be used against you in the most sadistic ways. And Alistair finished the job. That's why he was never able to love Sam the way he should have, out in the open. He was too ashamed. And too afraid.

_And now that's too late_, he thinks, seeing the first houses of the nearby town.

The first cigarette gave him a sore throat and made him cough like a beginner. He was too proud to buy a pack of lights and prefered purchasing his old favorite non filter brand, and a bottle of bourbon. The cashier looked at him with eyes which were saying "So early in the morning pal?", but he didn't say a word.

Smoking made him a little light-headed and that was precisely what he was looking for. This wasn't a very welcoming town, like many in the midwest. You wouldn't find a square or a little park to sit in, so Dean turned around a walked back to the bunker, cutting through the woods, and when he found a comfortable enough dead trunk to sit on, he stopped and decided he would stay there until the pack and the bottle are empty.

Well you know, if you go to those trailers you saw earlier, I'm sure you could find some meth. If you want to destroy yourself a little more that would be per-fect.

_Sarcastic little voice. You won't stay up for long in a couple of drinks._

How does he fix this? He doesn't even know where to start. He's tired to pretend he's ok because he's clearly not, and apparently everybody notices. So why keep on pretending? Because he doesn't want to be that whiney little boy that scumbag Gadriel described?

Sam would say there is no shame in needing people. That would be a very Sam thing to say. Something like "_you know Dean, we all have our inner child somewhere_", and Dean would laugh and say "_oh my God I hope not Sammy, I did a couple of - or more - things that were definitely not suitable for a kid_". And Sam would roll his eyes and say "_Can't you just...Forget it_". And he would do his favorite bitchface. Missing Sam is a feeling he knows well. And the idea of loosing him have always made him loose his mind.

When Sam was stabbed by Jake, Dean thought he was only hurt. After all, he was wearing a thick jacket, and God knows how many times they were both hurt with knives, blades or even guns. So the only stupid thing Dean was able to say was "You're gonna be ok...I'll patch you up". As if it were even possible. Jake knew where to strike. Right on an artery. And Sam died within seconds.

In movies, when an important character dies, you always have a long agony scene, when the hero has a lot of time to say exactly what he needs to. There was no such moment when Sam died. It just happened. Dean would have liked to scream, but absolutely no sound could come out of his mouth.

It just wasn't possible. Sam couldn't be dead.

He had swore to him he would rather die than hurting him. He had swore to him he would protect him whatever happened. And he had swore to himself that now he was alive, now John had given his life for him, whatever were his reasons, he would be a good brother for Sam. He would keep his feelings concealed - he didn't fully understand them anyway, and certainly didn't like to think about them - and support Sam who was going through a terrible year.

Stupidly enough, he had always pictured them dying together, or him dying to protect Sam's life. That year he had tried to shield Sam from danger and emotional damage, just like he'd always done, but that had proved to be way more difficult than before. It was like he was fighting against destiny. And it culminated when he incredulously held his brother's lifeless body.

He spent 24 hours in complete denial. A day he actually doesn't really remembers. For example, he doesn't remember driving back to Bobby's house. He knows he was sit at the back of the Impala, holding Sam, and then he was in Bobby's house, Sam was lied down on an old bed, he was sit on a chair closed to him and Bobby came to tell him it had already been a day and that they should think about burning his body.

At that moment, Dean saw himself shooting down his old friend just for pronouncing that sentence.

And then he realized he apparently spent an entire day in this dark room, not eating, drinking, sleeping or even thinking. For the first time in hours, he actually looked at Sam. He was pale, so pale. He seemed so...innocent and fragile. Dean realized his eyes would never look at him again. That he would never see his smile, or hear him talk or...anything. There was no future to think about, no "_when all this is over_" to consider. He had tried so hard, so hard, to be a good brother. And he had failed. He had thought that in some ways, there was maybe a kind of symmetry in the universe, and that if he forgot about what he really felt for Sam, then he would be safe.

That was superstitious and a little dumb for a hunter, to be afraid of some kind of divine punishment. All the more stupid since Sam was now dead, and Dean was left alone with a void inside him that was as strong as a black hole. Enough to swallow him whole.

He thought again about that day at the bus stop. How he didn't take his ticket. What would it have changed if he had? Maybe he would be standing here too, but they would have spent the last four years together. Maybe Dean would have suffered of chronic guilty conscience, but Sam would have been there to tell him it was ok since they loved each other and there was nothing wrong with love. Sam would have had loads of psychological/girly/weird Sam explanations but it would have made whatever they would have done seem beautiful and right and Dean would have believed him. Dean has always held onto Sam to see beauty and hope in life.

But he let him go. And now he was gone for good.

He wasn't going to survive this. There was just no way. He would say goodbye to Sammy, take care of his funeral and then blow his head off. There were legions of hunter who would be able to play wargames with the demons they had unleashed. It just wasn't his problem anymore. No, no.

So he apologized to Sam. For failing at his "job". _Job_... It had almost become a code word between them. They both knew it meant so much than a simple assignment.

He kissed Sam on the forehead.

_"Goodbye Sammy, I'm right behind you. Just wait okay?"_

He began to weep. His forehead touching Sam's.

He kissed him on the nose. It used to make him laugh when he was little. But now his skin was cold and his body motionless so Dean had to make huge efforts to repress the sobs that were threatening to crush him.

He kissed him on the mouth.

And began to cry. This wasn't a fairy tale. There was no true love's kiss in this desperate world. He had it once, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand like the idiot he was, like the self righteous fool he was. The feeling of that first kiss came right back to his body and mind, and it made him collapse on the floor, howling like a wounded animal, until Bobby came in and forced him to go out of this room and drink a coffee spiced up with a sleeping pill.

He woke up at dusk with a headache and saw Bobby, asleep in his armchair, still holding his beer. Dean had a sad smile thinking about how what he was going to do would hurt him. But his decision was made and his gun was loaded.

He looked at Bobby's living room and remembered the good times they had there the few times their father dropped them at Bobby's. How he taught him to repair cars. The burnt pancakes. Fishing. Bobby would have made a real good dad. He looked around, at the bottles, the old books, the dusty carpets, the devil's trap painted on the ceiling... Devil's trap.

Dean had to repress a laugh. How didn't he think about it earlier? There was a way he could fix this. Fix all of this.

He ran to the Impala and drove to the nearest isolated crossroad and made a deal. His life for Sam's.

And despite what Bobby said later, when he held Sam living body again, he knew he had made the right decision. Feeling his warmth, hearing his voice was worth throwing his life away. Maybe Sam would never know how, and how much Dean loved him, but at that precise moment it really didn't matter.

It wasn't too late anymore. Everything was still possible.

When Sam woke up, Dean was not beside him, and Sam looked for him before realizing he was gone, and apparently for a walk. Dean? Walking? Something is definitely wrong, he thinks, while drinking his morning tea. It's almost eight, and Sam is comfortably sit in one of the couches. He picked a book in the library, an old edition of The Hound of the Baskervilles, and is trying to read, but he can't focus.

Dean's touch is still lingering on him.

Yesterday he was thinking about leaving him, and now the only intelligible thought he has is "_he needs me_". It's always like this. He thinks he can separate himself from Dean and then he realizes there just no way it will ever happen. Everytime they've been separated, Dean was always somewhere in his heart, mind and body. Like carved in his very bones.

He loves him.

It's not the first time it strikes him like this. The first time it happened, he was sixteen. And the second, he was 22 and Dean had just sold his soul to save him.

After the final battle with Azazel, they all went back to Bobby's to celebrate. Sam tried to act normal and happy, even if he had just learnt what Dean had done, and only had the time to promise him that for once, he would be the one saving him. Bobby had lit a fire outside, and they had a nice moment, drinking beer and laughing at old hunter's stories until late in the night. Dean was awfully casual. But then again, this was Dean and his super denial power. Sam couldn't stop looking at him and wondering why. Why did he do that?

He knew Dean had been raised to feel guilty, and Sam had trouble hiding his deep, deep sadness when he thought Dean might have sacrificed himself because he thought not being able to protect him deserved death penalty. Sam was feeling immensely sad and grateful at the same time. Dean had never let him go. Dean had never stopped loving him, supporting him, and was ready to die for him. There was no one in this world who would do that for him, knowing who he was, and what he was. Dean said it was his job, and Sam knew how serious Dean could be with any kind of job, and how ruthless he could be with himself when he failed. It scared him. Was that it? Dean punishing himself for failing?

When they finally went to bed. Dean crashed on his, mumbling "g'night Sammy", and fell asleep without taking off his boots. Sam took them off and covered him up, saying _"Oh my god you're such a caveman"_, smiling at him. He crouched near Dean and gently put a pillow under his head. He looked at his brother's sleeping face, his long eye lashes, his freckles (_they're not freckles Sammy they're uh...sun spots_), his slightly opened mouth, and suddenly his chest felt too tight. Tears came to his eyes, and he needed some fresh air and more alcohol. He came out of the house and walked straight to the Impala, where he found Dean's not so secret stash. He sit on the car's hood, and began to drink bourbon while looking at the night's sky. After a few drinks, the pain in his chest started to feel bearable.

But he was longing for something, even if at that moment he didn't know precisely what. He had known since the moment Dean came to see him in college that they shouldn't stay close too long if he didn't want old habits and old feelings to surface. Because all the books he read didn't change the fact that deep inside him, when he wanted comfort he needed Dean's arms. When he needed validation, he needed Dean's eyes. When he wanted happiness, he needed Dean's smile. And he knew the moment he kissed him that Dean's touch was something he could get addicted to. Life away from Dean was peaceful and predictable, and as much as he was conscious it was a healthy one, he was more and more attracted to a life with Dean.

He couldn't loose him. He just couldn't. Not now. Not yet.

"_Well look at that, it's like I'm looking at myself. What are you doing Sammy you should be sleeping._"

Dean. Hands on his waist, wearing his cocky big bro gaze, and smiling like everything's normal.

_"Why"_ said Sam, with a little voice.

_"Why what Sammy?"_ replied Dean, coming closer while Sam was sitting back on the car.

Sam breathed in, trying to remain calm.

_"Why did you make that deal?"_

Dean touched his shoulder.

_"Sammy... Don't get all worked up allright? I did what I had to do, is all"_

Sam felt tears coming to his eyes.

_"I told you why. That's my job to protect you."_

Sam held Dean's shirt and looked at him, his eyes shining.

_"Do you think your life is that worthless?"_

_"What?"_

Dean looked suddenly concerned, and Sam tried to stay focused.

_"Dad gave you that job and I...always thought it was unfair. I know you love me Dean, I know but..."_

He angrily wiped his tears

_"You didn't have to do that."_

Dean gently pet his hair.

_"Yes I did Sammy"_

_"But I don't even know if I'll be able to save you"_

He suddenly sounded a little childish. Dean smiled sadly.

_"I'm sure you will"_

Sam looked at him again.

_"So, why?"_

Dean looked at the ground, his hand still running in Sam's hair.

_"Because if it's some kind of punishment you inflict on yourself..."_

Sam swallowed a sob

_"...for "failing" then let me tell you that: you didn't fail. It was never your job to begin with. And you stood by me every single moment of these last months, when others would have run away."_

Sam held Dean's elbows.

_"Look at me"_

Dean slowly raised his head, and Sam saw tears in his eyes.

_"You didn't fail me."_

Dean walked one step closer to Sam, keeping silent.

_"So if you did that because..."_

Dean grabbed the back of Sam's arms.

_"Then you're mad, you hear me? This is madness"_

Sam was crying now. He wanted Dean to hear this. To hear his life had value, and a great one, that it was heartbreaking to even think Dean could consider his life as a variable. That he couldn't stand seeing him being so self destructive since they were children. That he deserved to be happy, to have a life of his own. That the era of John's orders was over and that he was allowed to move on. Sam suddenly remembered the day he asked him to follow him to California, how much he wanted to save him. To close his wounds with love, and sunlight and an easy life. And now Dean had only one year left and...

Dean kissed him.

He had walked another step closer while Sam was battling with his thoughts and, with a hand on Sam's neck and his other arm embracing him, he kissed him. Lightly, like a first kiss. Right on Sam's upper lip.

_"I didn't."_

Dean's forehead was touching his, and his eyes were still closed. Sam touched his face, and caressed his cheek with his thumb. Dean opened his eyes slowly, and Sam could read he braced himself for rejection. He had himself this look once, a few years ago.

_"Since when?"_

He whispered, cupping Dean's face. Dean sighed.

_"Since you left for college"_

_"Dean..."_

He hadn't seen anything. He thought he had imagined Dean kissed him back then, that the righteous Dean would never harbor that kind of perversion. He had struggled to convince himself none of these feelings were real. That they were born out of trauma and isolation. Meant to be buried away and forgotten. But they were very real. His racing heart was real, the heat burning his body was real, as were the tears coming to his eyes and the need to kiss his brother, to embrace him, just like before he left. He wasn't sick, he didn't need to be cured. Or maybe he was, but if Dean was too, then it didn't matter.

_"I know... Sammy I know... I'm sorry..."_

Dean was still loosely holding his waist.

_"I'm fucked up. I know it. I wanted to protect you then...and now_..._but..."_

Sam whispered.

_"Protect me from what?"_

Dean raised his face. Now tears were falling on his cheeks.

_"Me?"_

For the first time ever, Dean sounded like a little boy.

Sam smiled, and pulled him closer, standing now on his feet. He smoothed Deans hair and kissed him, while smiling and said in his ear, after lightly kissing his jaw.

_"Do I look like I need protection?"_

He loved him.

He had never stopped loving him.

_Other people's rules don't apply to us._

The Winchesters' motto.


	6. Candy

Dean lights another cigarette. He's halfway through his pack, and his bottle is also half empty. It's starting to get a little warmer, and the sun is piercing through the leaves, making the ground look like a stained glass of multitude shades of green. Dean lies down and closes his eyes, trying to listen to the sound of the wind.

_"Do I look like I need protection?" _

He smiles. That was his Sammy then. Bold. Unashamed. And so honestly loving him. When he heard him say that, Dean could only embrace him the tighter he could. Sam held him close too, and they remained like that a long moment, eyes closed, in silence, but one that had more signification than any kind of conversation. Dean doesn't think Sam knew any more than he did where what they had just done would lead them. Dean didn't know precisely what he wanted then. What kind of relationship. He couldn't put a word on it. He only knew he wanted Sam's love, whatever form it would take. And if it had meant staying embraced like that until he died, it would have been fine. He had never felt safer. It was like he never wanted to leave this warmth, this touch, and the sound of Sam's heartbeat. Someone inside him was craving, had been craving for years, for that kind of intimacy.

He felt exposed. Naked and weak like a newborn.

It had never been like that with any girl he'd ever met. It was rather the contrary.

He never told Sam, who thinks he's some kind of sex god, but his first time happened a few weeks before his seventeenth birthday. Before that, he had never touched a girl. Believe it or not, he was pretty shy. It was normal since he had always been around men, and men who prided themselves on being the manliest possible, meaning as Sam would say, "_acting like a redneck_" and dismiss any kind of display of affection or doubt as being "_girly_" or "_gay_".

This kind of men also have a very idealized vision of women, because they always associate them with their mothers, for some reason. Sam would certainly have an explanation for that. Those who don't stand the comparison with their sanctified mom are usually considered sluts, or not really women. Like female hunters. How many times did Dean hear "_Yeah Judy's nice, but you seen those arms she got? Not really a girl, see what I mean?". _

So Dean grew up revering his deceased mother and considering girls as strange magical creatures or dangerous vixens. He didn't have girl friends, or friends for that matter. Being at school made him feel like he was surrounded by morons. Ignorants. Douchebags. He wasn't interested in studying, he didn't want to do extra curricular activities of any kind, and he certainly didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't know how to start a normal conversation, and very early in his life his unease turned into contempt and he decided he was just not interested in people. He just passed the time listening to music - he had begged John for weeks to have a walkman - and reading comic books he borrowed to the library. That behavior of course attracted bullies, but he only had to sprain a few shoulders and knees to show he wasn't to be bothered.

He wasn't what you'd call a social person. So of course girls didn't approach him then.

His first kiss happened when he was in a foster facility. Well at Sonny's. He tried for years to forget those moments, no because it was traumatizing, but on the contrary because it was his first glimpse at what a normal life could be. He realized there he hated those kids at school for having a normal life, for being...kids. Allowed to be dumb, irresponsible, dependant, allowed to have stupid music tastes, to make mistakes, to nag, to disobey because it was just part of what growing up meant. And he hated them for being too immature to see he actually needed people to talk to but didn't know how to ask.

At Sonny's, he found out he could actually rely on adults, that he was even supposed to. He didn't have to take care of himself alone, and it wasn't humiliating to be helped. Sonny kept repeating _"You're only sixteen"_, when John always said "_You're sixteen now!"_. Sonny had trouble hiding what he thought about John being ready to leave his son in prison for two months just because he made a mistake. And he even had more trouble hiding how sad it made him feel when Dean said his father was right, that he had to face his responsibilities. Then he just patted Dean's shoulder and said "_Don't be so hard on yourself kiddo_", and Dean was torn between wanting a hug and asking him to stop calling him kiddo.

It made him soft. And in Dean's world, being soft was like being a walking dead. A weakling.

But with Sonny's help, he began to feel safer about life in general. He made friends. He actually enjoyed school and the company of other kids. He had good grades, and he even remembers a history teacher telling him "_you have a future_", with a proud smile. If he had been with John, he wouldn't even have mentionned it. John would have replied something like "_What future? You want to leave us? You want to let your mother's murderer go away_?" and Dean would have said "_no Sir_". Sonny on the contrary hugged him and told him he was proud of him, and made all the other kids in the house compliment him at dinner, and he blushed like an idiot.

He even learnt how to play the guitar at Sonny's since a woman from the neighborhood went to give them lessons on saturday afternoons. She was always with her daughter, Robin. Robin was sixteen, just like Dean, and she was the first girl he actually had a conversation with. And the first girl to kiss him. It was a chaste kiss. She had soft lips and they tasted like strawberry lip gloss. Dean felt his heart flutter and the proverbial butterflies flying in his stomac.

He considered staying there.

And then John came. With Sam in the backseat. The little twelve years old Sammy, who was so small then he looked like and eight year old. Dean couldn't let him. He had seen what he would miss, and he wanted to give him that, he wanted to give him a taste of normality so he would never be helpless about life and people. So he said goodbye to everyone and left.

After that, he spent the next few weeks convincing himself he didn't really enjoy his moments at Sonny's. It wasn't really him who enjoyed. He was acting. He was...infiltrating, in some way. Mainstreaming. It was jail, after all. So...he wanted out. And the sooner the better. That's true, I mean...if he hadn't been complacent with the farm's rules, he would have been forced to stay there. And he was absolutely not mad at John for abandoning him. He had messed up, there were rules. John was fair. John was always fair.

_I'm happy to be back. I'm happy to be back. I'm happy to be back._

_You missed hunting?_

_Course I did. That's what I am._

It made him a little emotionally numb. To be fair, it made him split. And that would become his way to cope with life. It's not perfect though, because life shows you that everything you cut and throw away can come back to haunt you. And then only bourbon can keep the darkness at bay.

Dean started drinking. He had fake IDs after all, so why not using them? Alcohol made things better. He wasn't a funny drunk but drinking made him more confident. When he drank he had no doubt about the story he had told himself. He was a hunter, a soldier, he was proud of this family business and he was so much better than those normal boring people. He didn't need their schools, their jobs and their fancy houses, when they would sooner or later need him to save their asses when they're crawling on the floor, screaming like pussies because there's a ghost in the fancy antique wardrobe they bought.

He began to go to bars at night, when Sam was asleep.

He remembers the first time he came inside one. It was a gloomy place, filled with strange looking people. Men and women, looking unealthy and somehow...dirty? Women had pathetic smiles and were wearing cheap makeup that had smudged a little. Their clothes were too tight and their red nail polish was flaking on their cheap fake nails. Men were all wearing baseball caps and old flannel shirts. It smelled like old beer and despair.

Dean loved it.

He saw himself in those people who had apparently lost everything they had to lose, if they ever had anything. He laughed internally, thinking who here had been the highschool heartthrob back in the day, and who had been the promising quarterback who ended up working in a shabby gas station. A girl was singing some country music in the corner. She had a hoarse voice, a smoker's voice, but there was something a little nostalgic in the way she sang. Dean had already drunk two pints so he felt like talking. He looked at himself in the mirror, made his cocky smile, and walked to the girl who smiled at him, revealing not so white teeth.

_"Hi honey"_ she said, with what she thought was a seductive tone. From up close, even with the dim light, you could see how tired she was, her foundation not hiding so well the dark circles under her eyes. He pretended he didn't notice and said

_"Hi babe, nice voice you got there"_

She caressed his cheek with a surprisingly soft hand.

"_Thanks hun. Look at you...you're so adorable. I've never seen you 'round here"_

Dean leaned on the wall, trying to look cool and detached

_"I'm not from around here. By the way I'm...John"_

_"Well hi John, I'm Candy",_ she said, doing her poor smile again.

Candy... More like Betty Lou or that kind of name, Dean thought.

_"So, why are you here hun?"_

_"I'm just uh...travelling."_

Candy sat and drank some beer. Her eyes became vague.

_"I see what you mean hun... Me too once I said to my Mama I was going out to buy some ice...And I never came back."_

_"Where are you from?"_

_"Mississippi."_

She lit a cigarette. Suddenly she looked way older than she seemed to be. Dean wondered what had happened to her then, but before he could completely process his thoughts, she had caught his wrist and dragged him to the bathroom.

The light there was neon white. Crude. Candy had grabbed a whiskey bottle on her way, drank some and gave it to Dean, who drank the more he could so he wouldn't see how grim all this was.

His back was leaning on against cold tiles, and before he could say anything, Candy was kissing him, sliding her tongue into his mouth, and it felt incredibly disgusting.

And somehow exciting. He was where he belonged. In the dark with all the desperate ones. He wanted her to drag him down, and to taint him until there would be no way he could ever come back to whoever he used to be.

He kissed her back, and she made a coarse moan, like something she would have heard in a porn movie, and she started to rub her hand against his crotch, while unbuttoning his jeans. At that moment he thought he should push her away and leave. He briefly had a vision of his time with Robin. The porch, the sun, her beautiful and innocent smile, and it tore him inside. So he grabbed Candy's breast and started to touch it up, certainly way too roughly, but she still said something like "yeah baby, just like that". She was the kind of woman who had been raised to please men. Men who confuse porn with real life and use women like tissues.

When she kneeled in front of him and put her hands on him, Dean grabbed the bottle and closed his eyes. He was feeling some kind of stimulation, but that was pretty much it, and something was screaming inside him, something he had to silence, and quick. Then he felt something wet and he opened one eye. She was looking at him, trying to look sexy he supposed, but seeing her like this made him want to smash her face or to hug her and apologize for all the jerks who had ever treated her like a doormat or a blow up doll. So he closed his eyes and patted her head briefly. And then it was over and she was rincing her mouth in the sink.

_"You liked it Johnny boy?"_ she said, coming back to him and touching his butt.

_"Oh yeah"_ he said, faking a satisfied smile.

_"You wanna..."_, she whispered, taking his hand and putting it under her skirt, trying to sound flirtatious.

Dean had to repress a retch and said

_"Sorry babe, I'm a little..."_, he showed the bottle.

She let go of his hand and said

_"It's allright_"

She pinched his cheek and went back to the bar, walking a little unsteady towards the pool table where an old guy who looked like a biker began to touch her butt. She laughed and then looked at Dean, still smiling, but with pleading eyes. Eyes saying "_don't leave me here, I don't want to do what I'm going to_". He still walked out the bar, and bought two whiskey bottles at the nearest gas station.

He began to methodically get wasted, sit in his car, as if the taste of the alcohol could erase the bitterness in his mouth. He wanted to scream, burn his clothes and scrub himself with sand until he bled. So he opened the second bottle. And after some time, he finally stopped feeling anything. He was just numb.

He drove back to the motel trying hard not to have an accident, focusing on the road and the signs.

Inside, Sam was watching TV, when it was passed 4 in the morning. When he heard the door open, he ran to Dean and said

"_Where were you? I was worried sick!"_

Dean could see some trails of salt on his cheeks, showing he had been crying. Normally he would have apologized and hugged Sam, but he couldn't touch him just now. He felt too dirty, so he walked right to the bathroom and locked himself in. Sam knocked on the door and asked what was going on, but Dean told him everything was fine before turning the radio on. When he heard a country song, he quickly changed the station, and stopped when he heard some AC/DC. He pushed the volume, ignoring Sam's protestation and entered the shower. He began to wash himself thoroughly, under the hottest water possible. He rubbed his whole body with his fingers, insisting in some part with his nails, as if there was something he could scrub out but the feeling wasn't going away.

He began to cry and pushed the volume a little more. He sat in the shower tray and started rocking back and forth, almost smothered by sobs. He hadn't rock like this in years. He used to do that when he was little, to calm down, to soothe his pain. When Sam was too young to talk and John let them alone sometimes for days.

He got out of the shower when he ran out of hot water. The bathroom was filled with steam. He turned off the radio and went out, a towel around his waist. Sam was sit right beside the door and he looked at Dean, wide eyed.

_"What happened?"_

Dean was puzzled.

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Dean...did you...scratch yourself or were you...attacked?"_

Dean walked to a mirror and looked at himself. His torso was covered with scratch marks, some of them almost bleeding. He sat on his bed, and Sam brought him a sweater. He put it on, without saying a word, and minutes later, Sam gave him a cup of hot coffee and sat beside him.

_"You want to talk about it?"_, he said, with a little voice.

_"Talk about what?"_, Dean replied looking dark.

_"Whatever happened?"_

Dean drank some coffee.

_"Hey, careful!"_

_"What?"_

_"It's too hot!"_

Dean smiled.

_"It's not Sammy. I'm fine I'm just...tired"_

Sam got up and said

_"Ok so come on, go to bed"_

Dean was amused. Sam was talking just like him, he even brought him a boxer and some sweat pants. Dean put on his clothes and lied down. He was starting to have a headache, and to feel his scratches burn. He prefered the pain to whatever he felt earlier, and he fell heavily asleep.

He woke up three hours later with Sam cuddled up against him. And when he looked at him, looking so innocent and pure, he promised himself there would be no more Candies.

But there were more. More bathrooms, more cars, more motel rooms. Sam slamming the door and sleeping in his father's room. Sam telling him he deserved better and Dean yelling "What the hell do you know?", before apologizing over and over. Dean soon saw the first spark of resentment in his brother's eyes and he tried his best to be a good brother during the day. To teach him how to hunt, to protect him, to compliment him on his good grades. He knew he was destroying himself, Sam was right, but somehow, in a masochistic way, it turned him on. He wanted to know how low he could go. He started watching porn, a lot of porn. He went to strip clubs and bars. And all the girls were Candies. He learnt how to please them, so he was at least a good fuck compared to all the loosers they had ever met.

_A good fuck._ He used to say that, looking at himself in the mirror. He practiced his moves, his smiles, his pick up lines. Even what he said during sex. Clichés and insults, what people who were raised with porn believe to be sexy.

His father was oddly proud of him. He said he was "_becoming a real man_". He didn't suffer anymore. He was careless, reckless, violent and a real dick sometimes. A real man, right Dad?

The shy boy was gone. Too busy scratching his skin until it bled.

He awakened when Sam kissed Dean for the first time, and he was the one to cry when he heard his brother's voice saying he didn't need to be protected from him.

Somehow Sam had reached him wherever he was locked.

He can't repeat it too much, Sam has always been his lighthouse in the night. Dean gets up and walks back to the bunker. He doesn't know if Sam will ever forgive him but he does know one thing. He needs him. He needs to be close to him.

There are so many things he's never said to him.

He would like to feel that safety again, like when they were holding each other in front of Bobby's house. He would like to feel that certainty, that confidence, that love.

When he opens the bunker's door and goes down the stairs, Sam is waiting for him with a blanket, looking worried. He begins to warm him up.

_"God Dean it's only april..."_

Dean looks at him and represses a smile.

"_I'm fine Sam_" he says a little too harshly, so he repeats it with a softer voice, _"Really I am"_.

Sam looks at him, looking puzzled and says

_"Ok then I'm in the library doing some research if you need anything. Oh and I made coffee"_

_"Thanks_", mutters Dean, looking at him walking away.

Dean hopes Sam won't give up on him and will reach out to him again, before the darkness swallows him whole.


	7. One

After a few minutes it became clear to Sam that he wasn't interested in the mighty adventures of Sherlock Holmes and his faithful Watson. He tried to call Dean several times before finding his phone in the kitchen.

He had left by foot, early in the morning, without his phone... Sam started to be afraid. Dean had never been suicidal. Self destructive? Yes. Reckless? Yes. In real life he would be the type to commit suicide by cop. Not the one to put a bullet in his brain, or to jump of a bridge. But was he? With the blade, and Kevin, and Gadriel and what Sam had said...oh god.

_I'm such an god damn idiot,_ Sam thought.

Maybe last night was goodbye, and he didn't realize. Whatever happens you know how much you love someone when you think you may have lost them. And in Sam's case, the fear was consuming. Painful. Unbearable.

He rushed outside, but there was no trace of Dean. He could try to track him down but he had absolutely no clue where he went. The wind was pretty cold and Dean had of course let his jacket inside. He was certainly freezing. Unless of course he didn't take it because he knew he wouldn't need it..._ oh god_. He went back inside and tried to call all the nearby bars, but no one was open. There was no alcohol left in the bunker so he certainly tried to buy some, somewhere, anywhere. For once his addiction could be useful. He had to be methodical. He then called all the drugstores in a two miles radius and finally found one where someone had seen a man looking like Dean. He had bought a bottle of bourbon and a pack of non-filter camels. Camels. Dean hadn't smoked in years so why... _Keep calm_. The cashier said the man then walked down the road. So he was coming back here, thought Sam. But it was two hours ago, so he was at least one hour late. Sam took the car keys and decided to go out and look for Dean when he heard the bunker's door.

Dean.

Dean was ok.

Sam grabbed a blanket and warmed him up. His skin was ice cold and his lips were purple, but he didn't seem to actually feel the cold. Sam said something stupid about the weather, trying to hide how worried he had been, and Dean told him he was fine. He smelled like whiskey and cigarettes. He had certainly stopped somewhere on the road to drink and smoke, and didn't think Sam would worry. He never thinks Sam will worry.

So Sam went back to the library, and pretended to research when he was actually trying to hide the tears coming to his eyes. The tension was slowly going away, and he had to fight hard not to run to Dean, kiss him and tell him "_don't disappear on me like that_". There was a bittersweet feeling about all this. A few hours ago he was considering leaving his brother, and now, the simple thought of something happening to Dean had made a complete mess of him.

Dean comes back from the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee, and stands behind Sam. He puts his cup on the table and bends over the computer. Sam feels his hand on his shoulder and almost jerks. It has been such a long time.

_"What are you reading?"_

_"Uh... Trying to find demon sightings but...nothing yet"_

He catches Dean's hand, and he keeps it in his. He can't look at him but he guesses Dean is surprised.

_"Don't worry, we'll find them",_ says Dean, not moving an inch.

Sam kisses his hand, and Dean crouches near him. Sam looks at him. Dean seems expressionless, he just stares at him. Anticipating. Sam feels his eyes burn, and that's always like this whenever he tries to have some resolve about them, he falls right back in. He catches Dean's cheek and he kisses him, a tear running on his face. Dean wipes it out and says

_"What's wrong?"_ while smoothing Sam's hair.

Sam kisses him again, while getting out of his chair and kneeling on the ground. He pulls Dean closer and tries to deepen the kiss but Dean gently pushes him away.

_"Tell me what's wrong."_

Sam sighs.

_"I was worried."_

Dean looks surprised.

_"About me? Why? I know I'm not the walking type but there was no reason to..."_

Sam grabs his sleeve.

_"I thought... You left your phone, your jacket...Your car..."_

He has tears in his eyes again. Dean understands and hugs him.

_"Sammy...baby...no..."_

Sam holds him tight, Dean hasn't called him like this in...weeks.

_"I'd never do that to you...you know that...don't you?"_

Sam can't answer, he just buries his face in Dean's neck.

_"I'm so sorry... I... Sammy I didn't want you to worry... I didn't think you would I... I just needed to clear my head..."_

Sam sits back and looks at him. He tries to control his voice.

_"Dean...it's not because i told you we have issues...that it means I don't care about you anymore."_

Dean frowns and looks away. He says

_"I know you do..."_

Sam wipes his eyes and holds Dean's hand. He needs to make him understand.

_"I know what I said, I know I hurt you then."_

Dean looks at the floor.

_"We need to work things out, Dean look at me... we need to. Because we really have issues."_

Sam sees Dean clenching his fist. Maybe he should retreat soon.

_"But don't think for one second it means I don't love you anymore...I..."_

Before Sam can end his sentence, Dean has pushed him on the floor and is kissing him almost violently. His hands are all over him, and he only stops kissing his mouth to slightly bite his jaw, kiss his earlobe, his neck. Sam hears himself making a very loud moan, almost desperate. He's been craving for that mouth, those hands, that touch... He takes off Dean's shirt, then t-shirt, almost ripping them off in hunger and he sits, Dean straddling on his lap, pressing himself against Sam who already starts to take off his belt.

Dean laughs and just says

"_Greedy."_

And that word makes Sam even crazier. Yes he's greedy, he's always been. And it almost drives him nuts to see Dean managing to stay in control. He kisses Dean's chest, insisting on his nipples while gently scraping his backand waist with his fingernails. Dean shudders. He's always been sensitive there. So Sam looks at him and makes a smile that means _"Who's greedy now?_" and Dean gets up, grabs his wrist and drags him to his room. He pushes him on the bed, and Sam is laid back, certainly flushed and looking rabid, while Dean is taking off his belt and tossing it on the floor.

Dean looks at him, making a predatory smile. He starts unbuttoning his jeans, while Sam's taking his off. Their eyes are locked. Sam knows he must have what Dean calls his "_sex face_" because Dean is licking his lips and is looking at him like a lion at a antelope. He doesn't care, he wants to be eaten. At least right now. He'll let him believe he's the lion for now...until he shows him what he's capable of. But before he could plan his next move, Dean is already on him, kissing his lower belly, then his groin, purposedly avoiding what Sam would really, really like him to touch. Dean takes his boxers off, looks at what he found and then makes a very satisfied smile that makes Sam want to scream "_God I hate you so much!_". And maybe he said it out loud because Dean has just said "_I know_", laughing, and last time he checked he wasn't a mind reader.

Dean is now kissing the inside of Sam's thighs, because he knows, that bastard, it will make Sam quiver. And he does, then grips the bedsheets, thinking if Dean doesn't start touching him right now he'll most probably kill him. At that moment he feels Dean's lips on his, his eyes are closed but he feels his brother is smiling. He's certainly quite satisfied with himself so Sam decides it's time to make a move. He rolls him over and when he tries to take his boxers off, Dean laughs and says

_"You missed it that much?"_

And then Sam laughs and kisses him, mumbling _"I missed you"_. There is a glimpse of emotion in Dean's eyes, as if he was suddenly caught off guards. He caresses Sam's hair and kisses him back, slowly rolling him back while Sam takes off what's remaining of his clothes. Their bodies are now fused together and Sam feels a familiar and powerful heat burning his body up and making him lightheaded. He hears himselft pleading "_Dean..._" and Dean answering "_I know_", in a playful tone.

Of course he does, that motherfucker. Sam knows that as soon as his hands and mouths are on him he's going to go completely incoherent, so he bites his wrist not to be too loud.

"_You know...we're underground..."_

_"Shut up!"_

He hears Dean laughing and then he's on him again, and Sam doesn't dare looking at him because, oh no, too late, he opened his eyes and Dean was looking at him with feral eyes, so he made that terribly loud moan, and an even louder one when he felt Dean's finger pressing on that sweet sweet spot inside him. Sam would like to have some dignity when Dean touches him, but that's been a lost cause for years. It was so different when they began. Dean didn't dare touching him. Didn't dare to initiate anything. Always pursued by guilt and the fear of hurting him, of "tainting" him he even said once making Sam almost cry at how negatively he saw himself.

_"Tainting me? Are you out of your mind?"_

Dean was sit on his bed and of course he had grabbed a whiskey bottle. Since they had kissed in Bobby's yard, a few weeks before, they had done nothing more than kissing, and slightly touching. Sam had noticed Dean's hands never touched him lower than his waist, and whenever Sam tried to go lower, Dean got tense and even asked him to stop. In the beginning, Sam thought maybe Dean didn't want him that way, especially when Dean kept dating barflies whenever he could. It made Sam so frustrated that he snapped at Dean once, after an umpteenth refusal.

_"You can tell me if you don't want it you know.",_ he said, while taking off his shirt.

_"What are you doing?"_, replied Dean, with a dull tone.

Sam looked at him, acting provocative - Dean would say "_making a_ _bitchface"_ - and said

_"Taking off my shirt, what does it look like?"_

Dean sighed.

_"Sammy..."_

_"What?"_

_"Don't."_

Sam sat heavily on his bed.

_"So you don't."_

Dean remained silent.

_"I should have known. You've always resented gays."_

"_Sam..."_

Sam got up and put his shirt back on. Then he walked to the window and looked outside, trying to remain composed.

_"My love is that kind of love. It's far from being platonic. I thought you knew."_

He heard Dean getting up and walk towards him. Then he felt his arms embracing him, and he heard him say

_"I do."_

_"But you don't love me that way."_

He sounded needy, he knew. He felt Dean kissing his nape and tears came to his eyes. Now he was emotional. Brilliant.

_"You're wrong"_ whispered Dean.

Sam turned to Dean and looked at him, a little confused.

_"So what aren't you..."_

Dean looked at Sam almost teary eyed and said

_"I just can't."_

Sam kissed him and took his, as Dean would say, "_teacher tone_".

_"Listen love, why don't you just let me then?"_

Dean replied, a little puzzled

_"Let you?"_

_"Let me touch you. You won't have to do anything if you don't want to yet."_

Dean frowned. Sam smiled

_"Unless you're too proud of course."_

Dean chuckled

_"Too proud for what?"_

_"Letting me take the lead?"_ said Sam with a big satisfied smile, while gently pushing Dean to the bed. Dean sat and said

_"I'll think about it"_ while smiling. But he still went to bed and purposely turned his back on Sam who perfectly understood the message.

The next morning, Sam woke up still feeling frustrated. He hadn't had a very good night, and as if his mind wanted to torture him, he had dreamt of Dean. He hadn't anticipated that. That desire. He had never been into men. He knew that when he was eighteen he wanted Dean to touch him, but he was so inexperienced then, he had absolutely no idea what he wanted. Now the problem was he perfectly did. But even if he still felt guilty, he knew that it was something he could overcome. Because yes this desire, this love, was born of trauma but so were they. Of course if they had been raised in a normal environment they would never have developed that kind of feeling. They would also never have hunted. They would have been completely different people. Whatever this was, it was part of them, part of who they were.

He heard some water running, and then he thought Dean had certainly enough time to think during the night. So he got up and walked to the bathroom.

Dean was taking a shower. Sam could see his naked body through the pane and he instantely felt like he was wearing way too much clothes. He took everything off, the most silently he could, and entered the bathtub, right behind Dean who quickly turned around. Hunter's reflex. Sam didn't let him time to say anything, he started kissing him right away under the hot water, and he slowly slid his hand over his chest and belly. When he finally touched him, Dean shuddered and grabbed his neck, but didn't push him away. Sam did it exactly the way he liked it, guessing Dean would like too, but didn't tease too much because he wasn't playing. He wanted Dean to see, to understand he wanted this to happen. Because even if Dean hadn't said why he couldn't touch him, Sam perfectly knew it had something to do with guilt and fear, that's why Sam had to be swift and efficient. He had to conceal his doubts, he couldn't show Dean even a hint of hesitation or his brother would instantly back off.

_"Look at me_", he said in Dean's ear, while his brother's face was buried in his shoulder. _"Come on, please"_

Dean raised his face. He was panting but not saying a word.

_"I love you"_ said Sam, while keeping on stroking.

_"I love you, and I want you."_

Dean made a strangled noise and Sam went slower. He had the right to play a little after all.

_"I'll repeat it to you as many times as you'll need. Love you. Want you. Love you..."_

Dean grabbed his hair and kissed him. Sam suddenly went faster, and Dean bit his brother's lip.

A few minutes later, they were both sit in the bathtub, Sam between Dean's leg, enjoying the last drops of hot water. Dean said, sounding amused

_"Sammy you're full of surprises"_

Sam turned around and said

_"What do you mean?"_

Dean smiled

_"I mean that was...good."_

Sam frowned

_"What, you thought I was bad sex?"_

Dean laughed

_"God Sammy..."_

It was only a few weeks after that first touch that Sam actually learnt why Dean was so reluctant to touch him. As usual with Dean, it took days of patient and constant harassment to get him to finally open up. Dean confessed that he couldn't get out of the deal, or Sam would die. That's why he had been so self destructive these last days, he was trying to push Sam away. What Sam gathered was of course Dean felt guilty, because they were brothers, because it was taboo but there was something else. He thought he was dragging Sam down. Tainting him. Hurting him even. He saw Sam as someone pure, someone who wouldn't have that kind of impulse. He wanted to die quick so he wouldn't taint Sam. Because he couldn't resist him, not anymore, and it was killing him.

It made Sam laugh bitterly, and so he said

_"Tainting me? Are you out of your mind?"_

But Dean was serious. So Sam sit close to him, and kissed him on the temple. He felt sad, like everytime he was reminded of how much Dean hated himself. He wanted him to see himself with his eyes. He held Dean's hand and said, with a bittersweet voice

_"Dean, we're in this together, I told you, I'm not letting you die. And you're not...tainting me. I want this, I do."_

Dean looked desperate

_"Sammy...you don't know what you're asking for..."_

Sam had a sad smile.

_"I'd never thought I'd have to say that kind of thing to you...you of all people...but Dean...You've been watching too much porn. There's nothing wrong with sex"_

Dean jumped a little, looking confused

_"What do you mean?"_

_"You heard me. Sex isn't dirty, or wrong, or tainted. It is only if you want it to be. Do you want to dirty me? To hurt me? To abuse me?"_

Dean almost shouted

_"God no!"_

And Sam caressed his cheek.

_"Am I old enough to know what I want?"_

Dean frowned.

_"Dean?"_

_"I guess so, yeah."_

_"So what's the problem then?_"

Dean sighed.

_"You can want it for the wrong reasons"_

Sam crossed his legs, looking puzzled

_"Maybe. What would be a good reason?"_

Dean tried to answer, but he just remained like this, his mouth open, so Sam said

_"My point exactly. Dean, stop wondering why we want that. We do. I myself don't really know why, but frankly, I don't care."_

_"Sam..."_

_"Don't "Sam" me. I do not care. I love you, this is part of loving you, there is nothing wrong with love."_

Dean looked desperate.

_"I wish it were that simple"_

Sam gently pushed him down and sat on his lap.

_"It is. Repeat after me: other people's rules don't apply to us."_

Dean laughed

_"You're serious?"_

_"Very. Repeat."_

_"Other people's rules don't apply to us."_

_"Good. Now. Do you love me?"_

Dean nodded and said

_"You know I do"_

_"Do you want me? Do you want to make love with me?"_

Dean chuckled

_"Don't laugh, answer."_

_"Yeah."_

_"So everything's fine."_

And to prove it to him, Sam did his personal favorite, and he still remembers how he enjoyed Dean's screams. And even more the after conversation, when Dean, still panting said

_"Where did you learn that?"_

And Sam answered

_"Jess."_

Dean almost choked.

_"Jess? Seriously? But she seemed so..."_

_"So what?"_

_"Innocent!"_

Sam laughed

_"Oh Dean...She was. You can be a good person and like sex. You can be lovely and terrific in bed."_

Dean smiled

_"I guess you're right"_

_"Of course I am, look at us both. Living examples."_

This time Dean laughed openly, like a little kid, as if some kind of weight had been lifted out his chest. He had finally found a reason to fight for his life. After that day he slowly began to dare, and Sam wasn't that much in control of anything anymore.

Sam thinks he blacked out for a moment, because he heard himself scream Dean's name and then he was lying down with Dean looking at him, with a very self satisfied gaze. Sam instantly bitchfaced and Dean smiled at him, as if to say, "_come on, show me what you got_", and Sam perfectly copied. Now he's on him, doing what he did to him that night, all those years ago. And that's exactly what Dean needed apparently, since he just muttered _"yes baby please_". Sam brings him almost to orgasm before slowing down and just kissing. It makes a mess out of Dean and Sam just wants to see him loosing his mind a little, drop his god damn control and yes, it's happening. Dean has grabbed the headboard. Sam has touched him where he wanted with just enough pain and now he's asking for more. Way more.

_"Do it. I want you to."_

He's too far gone, Sam knows these eyes. It's been a long time and it's going to be painful, but Dean likes to suffer a little. It's a shame, Sam knows but Dean says it makes him feel even more alive. There were times when it even scared Sam. But this is different. This is just like before the mess was made. So Sam complies, and Dean screams, digging his nails in Sam's back, calling his name. He's going to have scars on his back tomorrow but it doesn't matter.

They fall asleep together and Sam doesn't wake up till it's past noon. Dean's head is resting on Sam's chest, and Sam is running his fingers on his back. They didn't talk about Gadriel yet, about their problems, about the Blade but... It feels like somehow they've reconnected. It still feels a little bitter since it's not the first time they tried to solve their problems like this, and by now they both should know it doesn't solve anything. But still.

Sam looks at Dean sleeping face and it still moves him. He will save him. He won't give up on him. He can't.

_They're one._


	8. Bliss

When Dean awakes, he remains eyes closed and pretends to still be sleeping. He just wants to enjoy the feeling of Sam's hand on his back and to keep hearing the sound of his heartbeat.

Badum. Badum.

_Don't ever stop._

He lets Sam petting him, knowing his brother perfectly realized he's awake, but won't say anything because Sam being Sam, he always anticipates Dean's screwed up little ways. His doubts, second thoughts, violence and heavy self loathing, Sam knows them by heart. And he always forgives him, even when he hurts him, and he did. A he thinks about it, it makes his heart ache so much he wants to rip it off his chest and throw it away.

It's all his fault.

And thinking this doesn't make him feel better or worse. Because he said it a million times. And it doesn't change anything. It makes him feel like he is one of those abusive husband who beat up their wives and then come back home with a bouquet, making promises they won't ever keep. Dean feels a tear running down his nose. How does he go back? Back to their first year together, after the deal... He slowly drifts back to sleep, while Sam warm hand stops moving and rests on his nape.

That night after the deal, when Bobby interrupted them - he had heard some noise outside and had turned the light on, yelling he had a shotgun and infinite ammo - Sam and Dean instantly stopped hugging each other. Sam coughed, like whenever he was embarrassed, and Dean patted him on the shoulder, while saying

_"It's ok Bobby it's just us."_

Bobby called them idjits for being out so late, and told them to come inside, that he couldn't sleep either, so while they were at it, maybe they could have a cup of coffee - knowing Bobby, it wouldn't be only coffee - what d'you say? So they spent the rest of the night talking. Old hunting stories they had heard a dozen of times were still funny when told by Bobby. He made voices just like when they were children, and Dean thought for the hundredth time Bobby would have made a God damn fine Dad. Ellen joined them later, awakened by their laughs, and shared some of her own stories and funny ones about Jo as a child she made them promise to never mention in front of her daughter. There was something bittersweet about listening to Bobby and Ellen. It was like being with the family he had always wanted, and he knew it was only temporary. That soon, the sun would rise and everybody would go back to their lives. And later, he would die, and all that would disappear.

He wasn't going to survive this. The demon had add a clause in the deal. If he tried to get out of it, by any means, Sam would die.

He looked at Sam, who was comfortably sit on Bobby's couch, taking little sips of coffee because it's always too hot for him until it's more or less cold for any other decent coffee drinker. Sammy... The feeling on Dean's lips was still lingering, and he bit them a little, as if to taste it again. Sam turned and their eyes met. He made a little conniving smile, and Dean had to get up quick and apologize. "_Too much beer, be back in a minute_".

He locked himself in the bathroom and sat on the toilet seat. It had been spontaneous. The very second they looked at each other, he felt a very familiar heat, and he had to run to conceal the obvious. It was real. It was what he wanted. And it made him feel so nauseous he had to sprinkle some cold water on his face to calm down. He watched his face in the mirror, and felt that need he had had so many times to smash the mirror with his fist. He couldn't do that. He was going to die. And Sam would have to go back to a normal life. If Dean dragged him to far away from normality, he would never be able to adjust again.

And he didn't have to know about the clause. It would just hurt him and make him feel guilty for no reason. So Dean just had to push him away a little, and try to die quick. Little white lies. To protect Sam.

It was, as usual a shitty decision.

Because Sam wasn't a kid anymore and guessed something was wrong when Dean acted like everything was back to normal and went back to fucking barflies while Sam was waiting in the car. He wanted Sam to resent him, to despise him even. _"I'm just enjoying the time I have left_" he used to say then, trying to look convincing. But he saw in Sam's eyes he wasn't at all, that Sam was annoyed, obviously, but not taken in by his little act. Even more so since he couldn't completely resist Sam's attempts. He let him kiss him sometimes, and had to fight against his body, needs and instincts to push him away when he went too far. Sam had absolutely no idea of what was happening in Dean's mind, he had no idea what he was asking for. If he did, he would certainly no want it.

He wouldn't look at Dean the same way if he had heard that kind of dialogue

_"On your knees little slut"_

_"Yes baby"_

_"It's yes Sir."_

And seen Dean enjoying every word of it. He wouldn't want Dean's hands on him if he knew what he liked. What he had done. His kinks. How he liked to dominate and belittle. Control and treat like shit. Cuffs and insults.

He wouldn't.

But Sam was never the kind of person to back off easily. It seems a cheesy rom com thing to say but Sam is really the one who taught him sex could be something else than a perverted power play. To Sam, sex and love were intertwined, whereas for Dean both had always been separated. And to Dean's surprise, Sam perfectly knew what he wanted and what he was doing. He wasn't ignorant or domestic, and he showed that to him the first time he touched him. In that motel's bathtub. Putting his hands on him, boldly, without a single hint of shame or perversion. He had an expert touch and only words of love. Dean had trouble staying on his feet, he was completely powerless, his hand gripping Sam's neck and his hips moving on their own. He realized how tall and strong Sam had become. How exposed he felt again, and how this feeling made him take off. He wanted to hang on to the certainty he saw in Sam's eyes. Something saying _"follow my lead, this is right, we are right, don't listen to the guilt, to the voices in your head, just look at me, this is right, we are right"_ over and over again.

It made him finally say the truth about the deal, and Sam just said something like _"I don't care, I'll still save you"_. Casually, just like a kid saying _"I won't go to school and you can't force me"_. And as usual, Sam didn't need to talk for Dean to see in his eyes he understood everything. Dean was afraid. Afraid to hurt Sam, and also afraid to die. He felt himself falling for Sam more and more everyday and it scared him to the bone. He didn't want to lose that, at any cost. And he knew it was just the beginning, that if Sam and him became... the word still makes him laugh, "_lovers_", to use Sam's words, it would just get deeper. The idea of being depraved of that triggered his inner "black-hole" and made him wish for death.

But he still let Sam lead him where he wanted to go. Sam had always had a slightly manipulative side and been extremely good with words.

_"Lie down, and promise to not interrupt me"_, Sam said once, with a mysterious half smile. "Y_ou can close your eyes if you want"_. Dean tried to look daring and unafraid like saying _"you think you're running this show?"_, but inside, he was boiling with anticipation mixed with guilt and anxiety. He lied on his back, while smiling and saying _"All right, I won't"._ But he still closed his eyes, even if the lights were dimmed. He wasn't sure yet he wanted to see. And he was sure as hell he didn't wanted to say a word, especially not the kind of words that usually came to his mind in that type of situation.

He felt Sam taking off his jeans, and then slighty touching him through his boxer's fabric. He could already feel the warmth of his hand. Sam has a high blood pressure so his skin is always hot, as if he had a constant fever. He felt the heat irradiating his body and was tempted to stop Sam, before remembering he promised not to. Sam was awfully silent, and Dean was torn between opening his eyes and keeping them shut the tightest he could. Sam swiftly took off his boxers. And then Dean felt Sam's tongue. He jolted, clenching his fists and his jaw, trying to stay in control, but he was beginning to feel his hips move from side to side, and his entire body get tense. He felt Sam's warm hand on his stomac and heard

_"Relax. Let go Dean...trust me."_

He listened and he heard himself making strangled noises at first, then some kind of grunts, and then frank moans. And everytime he felt close to release, Sam slowed down, almost stopping, and after the third time, Dean finally opened his eyes, and he must have had a outraged stare because Sam laughed and said

_"Ready for second round?"_

He was flushed and his hair was wet with sweat. Dean felt his body burn even more as if it were possible. He lied back heavily, muttering

_"You're killing me"_

And Sam made a chuckle that meant "_You have no idea"_. And then he was back on him, only this time, after a few minutes, Dean felt something going inside him and before he could say anything he heard Sam saying

_"Wait."_

Sam's finger was rubbing inside him, and even if the feeling wasn't unpleasant, it was somehow distressing because after all he wasn't gay and... He suddenly felt some kind of electric shock rocking his whole body.

_"Got it"_, said Sam in a smiling voice.

Before that moment Dean had never thought men could actually have multiple orgasms. He completely lost his mind and screamed as if he were possessed, completely oblivious to his dignity. He heard himself invoking God and Sam's name, begging for more, for harder...He had never been in this positon, owned, dominated. Usually when girls did that to him, they certainly didn't touch him there and he was the one to give orders. Now he was literally in someone else's hands, and he understood at that moment that this someone could only and ever be Sam. Because it required something he couldn't give to anyone else: trust.

When it was finished he said with a weak voice

_"God I love you..."_

And Sam, very satisfied with himself said, smiling

_"I know."_

Dean didn't know how Sam could pull a Star Wars reference in the middle of this, but it made him laugh like a child and love him even more. Sam was adorably funny, and that was a side of his personality Dean fell completely in love with. And when Sam told him he had actually reproduced something Jess used to do to him, Dean was in awe, and also a little confused. In spite of his thorough experience he still had a lot to learn.

But he also had some trump cards up his sleeve.

He started to look at his brother with an entirely new gaze. Before, he used to allow himself to love Sam, but he denied his desire for him, dismissing it as perverted and wrong. But since Sam touched him, he started to accept it and realized he wanted Sam certainly as much as Sam wanted him. The difference was, if Sam had a soft touch, Dean's style was definitely different, and he apprehended Sam's reaction. It was far beyond his wildest expectations.

It happened when they ran into that Bela Talbot bitch again. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, like they say, but she was a bitch indeed, she had shot Sam in the shoulder for a stupid rabbit's foot. A few days before that, Sam had killed the Crossroad Demon who held Dean's pact, attempting to free his brother from his deal. Ruby had helped Bobby to repair the Colt - thinking about Ruby still makesDean angry - and Sam had been harassing him for days. But Dean knew it was a useless and dangerous move, so he refused. And Sam, like the love sick fool he was, fried her brain when he found out she wasn't the one holding the deal, after all.

Bela had her downsides but she was a fine business woman, so after the case was closed she gave them ten grands. Well, to be fair, they had saved her life, and after all she'd done, it was the least she could do. So Dean had this stupid idea of going to Atlantic City and spending it with Sam. He told Sam he wanted them to have a good time, and he apologized for putting him through so much stress with the deal and everything. He was expecting a thank you, but he got a screw you instead. Sam told him he should start worrying about himself, that his carelessness was a real problem. Dean didn't react at first. He replied something sarcastic he doesn't remember, and they hit the road.

The drive was very silent. Sam was visibly angry, looking at the window and not saying a word. Dean, on the other hand, pretended not to care when he was boiling inside. He was partly mad at Sam for snapping at him, and partly confused by his obvious despair. Contrary to his brother, Dean had never been good with words, and he saw in Sam's eyes that when he said his traditionnal "_you'll be just fine_" his brother wanted to slap him.

It may seem stupid, but Dean had never thought someone could actually miss him. It was obvious for him that he couldn't live without Sam, but the opposite wasn't. Despite of everything Sam had said, Dean still considered his brother would certainly have trouble living alone because he had always been there to take care of him, but he didn't think Sam would miss him as a person. Dean knew he was the needy one, that Sam was stronger, he had known that since Sam left for college. So it seemed logical to him that Sam would be able to go on with his life after he'd be gone. Sam's anger really caught him off guards.

Sam really loved him. He was trying to save him. And the idea of loosing him was apparently very difficult to bear, he couldn't just deal with it. That was...strange.

After a few hours, Dean decided it was time to call it for the night and found a comfortable enough motel. Sam was still silent and somber, and when they entered their room, he threw his bag in a corner and went straight to his bed, turning his back on Dean.

_"Sammy?"_, Dean said, slowly sitting on his own bed.

Sam didn't answer.

_"Sam... I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you..."_

Sam turned around violently and sat on his bed, facing Dean. He looked angry.

_"Upset me? You think I'm upset?"_

Dean was confused.

_"I'm not upset Dean. I'm mad."_

_"Why? What did I do?"_

Sam sighed, now his voice was trembling.

_"You see? That's your problem. You always think you've done something! I'm not mad at you I'm mad at...at..."_

He put his face in his hands, trying to control his breathing.

_"Mad at what Sammy?"_ said Dean, bending over him and holding his wrist. Sam raised his face, closed his eyes and breathed in. Then he said

_"I'm mad at how you see yourself."_

Dean didn't understand.

_"What do you mean?"_

Sam smiled sadly.

_"I know you. I know how you were raised, how we were both raised."_

He gently caressed Dean's cheek.

_"When you saved me, you thought you did your duty, because keeping me safe was your job."_

Dean nodded and added

_"You're not only my job."_

Sam smiled again and a tear fell from his eye.

_"I know..." _he said, and he kissed Dean briefly, before sitting back on his bed. Then he went ont and said

_"Dad saw us as his little private army... Every job was a battle... And every battle has its risks..."_

Sam closed his eyes again, apparently, speaking about that was really complicated for him and Dean had no idea why.

_"Yeah I know Sam...but...I don't get what you mean."_

Sam opened his eyes and now he was really weeping.

_"You see yourself...as a casualty...as collateral damage."_

Dean really didn't see why this was so distressing.

_"But Sam... It's ok... I knew the risks... I knew what I was doing. It's not your fault."_

Sam looked at him with despair in his eyes. He got up, walked to the kitchen and punched the cupboard so hard he broke the door, yelling "God damn it!" with tears in his voice. Dean didn't know what to say. Sam turned to him and said

_"You know, he's dead, but I hate him so much for what he's done to you!"_

Dean rose and whispered

_"Who?"_

_"Dad!"_ shouted Sam. _"You're not casualty! This is not a fucking war!"_

"_Sammy...calm down"_ said Dean with the most soothing tone, while walking to Sam. Sam was pacing around the kitchen.

_"Don't tell me to calm down. There is no fucking reason for me to be calm! You think of your life as a variable! Do you have any idea how it makes me feel?"_

Dean stopped walking and said

_"No, I don't"._

Sam leaned on the wall and started crying again

_"Like hell! I love you, you hear me? I love you, I'm in love with you..."_

Dean muttered

_"I know..."_

Sam yelled

_"No you don't! I love you. I don't love you because you take care of me, or because you're a good hunter or because you know how to do mac & cheese the way I like..."_

He laughed bitterly.

_"I love you because you're the best human being I have ever met. I love you because you're loyal, and brave, and selfless and... I love your eyes, I love your freckles, I love your stupid jokes, and the pout you make when I don't laugh at them... I love the way you sing terribly in the car... I love your insecurities and your pride, I love how you trust me, how you let me see through...I love the boy you were and I love the man you've become..."_

Dean began to feel tears coming to his eyes

_"I love you. For you. Not for what you can do."_

He walked slowly towards Sam.

_"Your life matters. You matter..."_ Sam angrily wiped his eyes, and Dean was now a foot away from him, shivering, his heart racing and his eyes wide open.

_"I can't live without you so don't you dare telling me I'll be just fine when you're dead"_

He closed his eyes again, trying to breathe evenly.

Dean was frozen. His hands clenched around the back of a chair. His mind was blank. And suddenly he felt it. That burst of joy and gratitude. It had been years since he last sensed it that strong. He walked the last step between Sam and him and desperately kissed his brother, feeling tears running on his face. Joy and gratitude immediately turned into overwhelming desire, and he began to rip Sam's shirt off while kissing him everywhere on his face, neck, chest and belly. This was too strong, and there was no space for doubt in his mind. It was filled with hunger. He had restrained himself for so long now he was possessed by this need, emerging from his deepest self. He took off Sam's belt, threw it away and took his pants and boxers down in the same move. Sam cried "_Dean_", and with absolutely no hesitation, he started kissing and touching, his hand grabbing Sam's butt, and his nails digging in his skin. When he took him in his mouth, Sam jolted and moaned loudly, trying to grip Deans hair, heavily panting, mumbling incoherent things in which sometimes surfaced a _"yes"_ or a pleading _"god"_.

When it was over, Sam fell heavily on Dean, straddling on his lap, and kissed him deeply, not taken aback at all by what Dean had just done, saying _"thank you"_ and _"love you"_ between kisses. Sam got rid of his clothes and started taking Dean's off, but before he could touch him, Dean stopped him, holding his wrists.

_"What?_" said Sam

Dean gently pushed him off his lap and got up. Sam got up too and looked at him from head to toe, in the crude light of the kitchen. They were both naked, standing in front of each other. Dean was speechless. Sam broke the silence and said

_"You're so beautiful"_

So Dean caught his arm and dragged him to the bed, lying on his back with Sam on top of him. He looked deep in Sam's eyes, and he saw his brother understood what he wanted.

_"Are you sure?"_

Dean kissed Sam, cupping his face with his left hand, and he pressed himself against him, strongly holding Sam's waist with his right arm. He muttered

_"Yeah."_

Sam kissed him, and caressed his lips with his thumb, whispering _"don't worry, i won't hurt you"_. So Dean let it out, he caught Sam's neck and said

_"Do it. I want you to."_ with a desperation in his voice he couldn't hide. Sam got it, as he always did, without needing Dean to be explicit about his needs. So he complied and went in without any foreplay. Dean screamed, overpowered by the pain, but soon dazed with endorphins. Sam stopped moving, certainly frightened by his brother's cry and Dean heard himself pleading for him to resume. Sam listened, and after a few thrusts he found the right angle, and then pleasure and pain became twins. Dean's hands were gripping Sam's shoulder blades, scratching his skin. He wanted more, he begged for more. Sam rolled him on his right side, and positionned himself right behind him. The few seconds without Sam inside him were torture, but soon he was back in, and had taken him in his hand. Dean completely lost control. Sam was biting his shoulder, he had understood what he liked, and was giving it to him without any second thought.

When he reached his peak, he blacked out in Sam's arms, panting and completely drained. He woke up a few seconds later, awakened by Sam's worried kisses and "_i love you_".

They had made love. And for the first time it didn't sound like a chick flick set phrase. It was bliss.

Later in the night, Sam asked Dean why he wanted to feel pain. And maybe because he was still in after sex haze, Dean explained why.

_" I need it. I know how it sounds but...hear me out. I've spent my life being hurt by people I hated... People who wanted to kill me...to torture me... I've never chosen to fight, yet it's my life..."_

Sam instinctively began to pet his hair, Dean now knew how upsetting his life story was for Sam.

_"It's ok baby... So when I ask you to... It's my choice. And I know that you...you'll never hurt me. If I say stop you'll stop, and if I say go on... It means I trust you"_

Sam kissed him on the forehead.

"_It means I trust you with my life_. _It means I'm alive."_

_"You are..." _said Sam, with a little quiver in his voice.

After some time he said, trying to lighten the mood,

_"You know...when I thought about us before..."_

_"What?"_

_"I always assumed you would be... on top"_ he added, laughing.

Dean climbed on top of him, grinned and declared

_"Who said it would always be you?"_

Sam smiled and replied

_"No one"._

It would be a long night.

In the morning, Dean was up early, and even if he felt a little sore, it was way less painful that he'd had expected. Nothing compared to hunting aftereffects. He couldn't really believe what had happened during the night. In the daylight it seemed unreal. He realized they both had passed a point of no return, and it scared him a bit. Especially when he realized just thinking about it triggered a rush of adrenaline in his body. He turned around and looked at Sam, who was still sleeping. He was lying on his back, slowly breathing, and one of his arms was folded on his chest while the other was resting above his head. Dean bit his lips and his first impulse was wanting to wake Sam up with kisses.

He would never look at him again the way he did before. But no one could know, neither hunters nor demons. If anyone learnt what they were doing, Dean was convinced it would be used to destroy them. Their bond had already been used countless time to hurt them. They had to protect themselves. But he knew Sam wouldn't agree.

So, when Sam woke up and went straight to Dean trying to kiss him, he had to stop him and explain to him they had to be careful during the day. Sam reluctantly agreed, still insisting on the fact they were still in their room and no one knew them here. Dean replied they had to train themselves not to be familiar during the day so they wouldn't blunder, and Sam rolled his eyes while muttering "_Training..._" and going straight to the bathroom.

Dean smiled at him leaving the room. He felt incredibly lucky of having him, and he wished for karma not being a bitch for once in his life.

_Let me live. Please, let me live with him._

_"Dean, Dean what's wrong?"_

Dean gets up and sits. Sam is right beside him and looks at him with concern.

_"What?"_ he says, a little harshly. Sam coughs.

_"You were...having a nightmare I think..."_ he says while pointing at his cheek.

Dean touches his face and it's wet, he was weeping in his sleep, apparently. That's what thinking about these times does to him.

_"You ok?"_ whispers Sam, tilting his head. He doesn't touch him. Back then he would have covered him with kisses and tried to make him laugh. But now he knows better and it's all Dean's..._shut up._

_"Yeah I'm fine",_ he says, trying to smile. _"I'm fine."_

He raises his hand unsteadily and combs Sam's hair back with his fingers. Sam doesn't move but he smiles. A real smile. That's something these days.

_"Oh your phone's ringing... It's Jodie Mills."_

A new case. Dean hangs up and explains it to Sam who, for the first time in... he doesn't even know, seems happy to investigate. It feels just like old times. It feels nostalgic and bittersweet. Because right now, as much as during their first year, Dean doesn't know what's going to happen to him in the end. Last time, he ended in Hell, and it turned him into the monster he had always been afraid to become. And sometimes, with the Mark, he feels familiar impulses surfacing from the deepest and darkest tunnels of his "_mineshaft_".

Sam never knew what really happened there. Dean never had the strength to tell him the truth. He was afraid it would break him. So he prefered little white lies. To protect Sam.

It was, as usual, a shitty decision.


	9. Life Is But A Dream

Crowley is looking at the First Blade, well... the first Sharpened Donkey Jawbone and is thinking about his mate Dean Winchester. Dean wouldn't like to be called his mate, he thinks he's so much better than him, but truly...not that much. Dean is an inch away from being a demon, really, just an inch away. If it wasn't for Moose, he would already be one. Alastair definitely did a fine job separating them back in Hell, and Crowley really thought a little vacation in Purgatory would tear them apart for good. But lately, it seems like the brothers are getting all touchy feely again and this, this is really a pain in the arse.

You see, Dean is a good tool when Moose is an unpredictable brat. Dean just needs to be convinced he's doing The Right Thing to let himself be handled when Moose will always question everything. He thinks like a bloody beatnik. So, when Dean is tempted to follow orders, like the good soldier he is, his arrogant little shit of a brother will always say stupid things like _"think about it Dean, do we really have to do that?"_, as if an underling had a say in following the orders he's given. Well given...maneuvered to thinks it's his idea, but in the end it's quite the same. Sam and all those so-called free-thinkers are the reason why it's so hard now to find people ready to follow orders without question. When he was born, people knew their place. Now, everybody thinks he's special and that, that is the real problem of this era. There is no more respect.

A smile is appearing on Crowley's mouth. Because thanks to the Mark, his new best buddy is going to remember his training in Hell and serve Crowley's purpose, just the way he was trained to.

Alastair was an evil but clever minger. The kind of demon who's not just an orderly, but who has a real tactical intelligence. And when you're involved in an apocalyptical master plan, enclosing complex alliances with self righteous doolies like angels, well, you need to have a functioning brain. And he had.

He knew that separating Dean from Sam was the best way to damage them both, and serve his faction's long term goals. If someone had dedicated himself to observe the brothers for maybe only a couple of months, that someone would have noticed that Dean without Sam is eaten alive by doubts, anger and loneliness and that Sam without Dean loses his much needed guidance, and is ready to turn to the first person who will give him a little support and love. It was absolutely unproductive to try to kill one, and everybody had to admit that Dean making a deal to save his brother was a delightful surprise. A gift of the Gods. Even with Azazel's death, everything remained possible.

Having Dean in Hell was definitely a good start.

Thing is, you can't break a bond like the one the Winchesters have so easily. You have to be methodical, and precise. Dean used to say he didn't break easy, and that was true. He had the heart of a soldier, he was well trained by Daddy dearest after all. So if you just tortured him, like you'd do with any other soul you have on your table, it wouldn't work. Well, maybe that after 200 years he would finally comply and do what you want him to do, but then what? He would go back to his darling brother and plot his revenge, and then who would break the last sceal?

Simple torture is for simpletons.

That's crazy how you talk about torture and people automatically think about the Spanish Inquisition. Rubbish. Torture is an art. It requires a large set of skills.

Observation is the key. Observation and education. Because what is education about? Punishing and rewarding. Education is a fancy word for taming after all, and Daddy Winchester knew that really well. Alastair could have spent years pealing Dean's skin off or pulling off his nails, he would never have had any effect on him. No. He had to destroy him everyday, and rebuild him every morning, so one day, Dean would wake up a different man, the man he wanted him to be. And when he would be out of the pit, he'd be exactly who Alastair intended him to be. Except he wouldn't know.

And when you see the results, even with Moose's influence, you can only applaud.

Alastair was a bloody artist.

* * *

_"Look at me bitch"_

Dean can't believe he's actually said that. Of course he tried to justify himself to Sam afterwards but he knew this wasn't right. He knew what he felt while killing this vampire and it rings an achingly familiar bell. It felt like Hell. All those years ago, when he spent his days torturing souls under the proud gaze of Alastair.

Alastair.

There isn't a day he doesn't think about him for at least a few seconds. Alastair messed with him in ways he can't even start to describe, he doesn't even know how deep the mess was made. Since he's been out of Hell, he's never been completely sure his choices were his. His perceptions were his. He tried to talk about it with Sam a million times, but he never could. He was too afraid, too ashamed but it wasn't only that. He had that strong feeling Sam couldn't understand because he wasn't like him. Why did he think that? The automatic answer coming to his mind was "_you've always known he wasn't_" but was that really the truth?

It felt like such a pavlovian reflex. Like it was somehow engraved in his brain. When he was rescued from Hell, he thought he could forget about all those years spent in the dark. All those years spent answering the same questions over, and over again. Sleep deprived. Obliged to watch people being tortured. And Alastair suave voice repeating

_"I don't want to do this Dean, believe me. If you promise to be a good boy I will make it stop."_

He thought he would also forget about when he finally agreed to be one.

When he saw Sam again for the first time after forty years, he felt like jumping on him and tearing off his clothes, and was only stopped by Bobby's presence. He thought the feeling of Sam's arms would erase everything, would wash him clean from all the filth he heard, saw, said, and did. He had become a monster, he knew it. And he desperately needed Sam's loving eyes, Sam's words. He wanted to hear again he was the best human being he had ever met and that he had the right to be forgiven, to be loved. But even when they were together, he couldn't stop thinking

_"You know he will eventually leave you, it's just a matter of time."_

It didn't work. It didn't feel the same as it felt before. He was devoured by doubt and anxiety, unreasonably fearing Sam would leave him. He had always been a control freak but it only got worse, even more when he learnt what had happened with Ruby. He had never felt a stronger jealousy. It was almost hate. The only thing he could think of was "_I knew it. Conniving little bitch"_, and then he felt like crying and throwing up for having that kind of thoughts. Because if he still madly loved him, he couldn't stand him being even a little independant. It made him feel tremendously anxious and angry at the same time. And something inside him kept on repeating "_beware, beware of him, he's going to stab you in the back_", and he couldn't silence it.

That's how he didn't see the influence the blood had on Sam. Sam had never been a liar, not ever. Sam had always hated lies, he had said that a million times. Sam was ready to face reprobation and shame when it came to "who they were", as he used to say, and he had always been brutally honest. So Sam lying to him should have triggered an alarm in his mind. He should have guessed something bad was happening to him. But he didn't see it, because he was too busy struggling with the ruthless voice telling him Sam was poison. A monster. Dragging him through the mud. Corrupting his mind with his moral contingency.

Because rules are rules. Repeat. Rules are rules. There is trust and distrust. Right and wrong. Loyalty and rebellion. Normal and abnormal. No in between.

Since he came back he's been a psychorigid douchebag and only Sam's able to put some complexity in his moral prism. That rigidity made him trust Castiel several times against all odds because he said he was a _soldier_, respecting _orders_.

_Orders are orders. You don't discuss them. You don't think about them. You're not smart enough to see the overall framework._

_So don't think. Do. Do as you're told._

_Good boy._

He's tired of being a good boy, of being a soldier. His hands are shaking, he doesn't want to be that man again, he doesn't.

Because he saw in Sam's eyes he was afraid. Maybe afraid Dean would then turn to him and say something like "_Tell me again how you're sorry for me_", just like this time, when he had an axe in his hands and was only stopped by Bobby stabbing him in the shoulder. Sam was an addict then. Blinded by illusions of power and grandeur but Dean wasn't. Dean accused him of not being the same to avoid seeing he was the one who had drastically changed. But it took him years to realize. It took him loosing Sam several times. And hurting him countless times.

Hurting him by not trusting him. By lying to him. By patronizing him. By sleeping with him and then shunning him. By being unable to forgive him. By making him feel guilty for no reason. And the list goes on and on.

He used to love him unconditionally, and the moment he came back, it felt like Sam had to fulfill impossible criteria to deserve his love. Why? Why did it have to turn like this?

He saw that in that church, when Sam was about to complete the trials. He saw the despair in his eyes. How he had never stopped loving him despite everything he had put him through. How he just wanted Dean to love him the way he used to. Dean realized then something inside him was broken, shattered in a thousand pieces and that he spent the last years denying it. Putting band-aids on a wooden leg, spending so much time burying his own pain that he was oblivious of the pain he inflicted to others. He only knew something deep inside him needed Sam close. Not because they were partners, not because they were family and dad-said-so, because there are rules or that kind of crap, but because Sam knows. Sam knows who he is. Who he used to be before he spent 40 years being brainwashed.

_There ain't no me if there ain't no you_.

That wasn't the most literary way of expressing it, but it came straight from his deepest self. He had to take that shot, even if it meant lying again. He had to save him, he had to mend their relationship, do everything he could to have a chance of loving Sam back the way he deserved to be. He felt it last night, this is right. They are right. They belong together and no Destiny, no God or Knight of Hell will ever get between them again. Promise.

Maybe should finally tell Sam about Hell.

He never had the strength to tell him. He was too ashamed. Ashamed of his weakness, of how he broke, how he begged. Of how powerless he was. The things he did. And said. He told himself that not telling the truth would protect Sam, but truthfully he was trying to protect himself. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it. It was enough to dream about it everynight, and have his every move and decisions influenced against his will. If Sam had known, he would have tried to take care of him, to help him. He would have told him it's ok to be damaged, that he could rely on him, let him take care of them.

But letting Sam take care of everything would have been against orders, against the natural chain of command, wouldn't it? Plus, you can't be damaged if you want to be efficient and you can't inspire pity if you want to be respected. It's amazing how easily those stupid Rambo set phrases come to his mind, and how difficult it is to keep them away. He has to tell him someday.

But he doesn't even know where he would start, if it ever happened.

Well first, Sam should know Dean hoped until the very end he would survive. Sam should know that if Dean wanted something, it was to live with him. To quit hunting. To follow him wherever he wanted to go.

He thought once he'd be safe he would have the guts to tell him. He used to think about it. About Sam's face when he would tell him_"and what if we visited Europe?"_ . Sam would probably joke and answer something like "_You're aware Europe is not a country right?"_, before laughing and smiling...Dean had a lot of little dreams like that. Stupid dreams really. Because when he opened his eyes he had this terrible feeling. That coldness, filling his body. And something telling him he wouldn't be allowed to live because what they were doing wasn't right. When he felt like this, he needed Sam's arms, and Sam's voice, telling him there was nothing to fear. That they were both conscenting adults, that they loved each other, that they were special. He used to repeat that like a mantra, like a spell to ward off death.

He knew if he stayed close to Sam, he would, in time, see only beauty in what they were doing, in who they_ were,_ as Sam used to say.

He wouldn't feel John's judgmental gaze upon his shoulder whenever he'd be alone anymore.

So when the Hell Hounds attacked him, he almost couldn't believe it was the end. He didn't suffer. The only thing he could think about was that Sam would be next, since Lilith was standing right in front of him. He had a last somehow comforting thought, "_maybe he's going with me_" and when he woke up chained up in Hell, his first word was "_Sam_".

But no one answered. Sam wasn't there. He could only hear screams and moans of pain. He was in some kind of biblical dungeon and it smelled like blood, fear and fire.

All around him were people in chains. Butcher chains. He couldn't move, or the hooks ripped his skin. He thought _"So this is it",_ and he tried to calm down, to save his strength for whatever was coming next.

What came next was, after a couple of hours, him unchained by a man looking like a bank clerk. He suddenly found himself in a room which really looked like an accountant's office. He was standing there half naked and bloody, and the man was looking at him with a very satisfied smirk that made Dean want to break his teeth.

_"My name is Alastair, it's nice to meet you Dean"_

_"Fuck you."_ said Dean, bracing himself for a slap. But nothing happened. Alastair just looked...amused.

_"Oh Dean. So much attitude, so much violence. What? You want me to hit you?"_

Dean remained silent. Alastair took a sad look.

_"That's what you're used to uh? Or maybe that's what you were expecting, coming to Hell and everything."_

He looked at Dean's wounds, sighing.

_"I'm sorry the chaining part is kinda...part of the decorum."_

He touched Dean's forehead and he healed him instantly.

_"Now look at that... Good as new!"_

Dean looked around, trying to find a way to escape. The man in front of him didn't seem very powerful, and he was way too confident, it would just take a few...

_"I prefer to warn you, you can't go anywhere. No one leaves my office without my permission. And you should know that I know everything about you, I know what you think, what you want, what you feel, I know your memories. So there is not a single thing you can plan that I won't guess before you even start thinking about it. I know everything."_

Dean wore his cocky look

_"Everything?"_ he said in a daring tone.

_"Everything"_ replied Alastair, with ice cold eyes.

Dean crossed his arms, trying not to show his unease.

_"So, why am I here? What do you want? A partner for bingo?"_

Alastair walked to Dean and stopped, when he was already way too close for Dean to be comfortable. His voice was still suave, but there was a metallic tone behind it, something...terrifying.

_"You think it is time for joking boy?"_

Dean didn't answer, and tried to look elsewhere. His tone reminded him of his John's, seconds before he would explode for nothing, cereals spilt on the kitchen's floor or Sam crying again. Then you just had to bow if you wanted to avoid the coming storm.

Alastair caught his chin, not violently, but firmly, turned his face to him and said.

_"Do you?"_

Dean answered

_"No."_

Don't piss him off, said a pleading voice inside of him. Alastair smiled, but his smile made Dean uncomfortable. It didn't match his icy stare.

"_Good._"

He sat behind his big wooden desk.

_"As for your question, your brother is not here"._

Dean looked puzzled

_"That was what you really wanted to ask, wasn't it? I told you, I know everything."_

Alastair looked amused again.

_"Now, go to your room little boy"_, and he snapped his fingers.

Dean blacked out. And when he woke up, he was in some kind of prison cell. Without any clothes on. He couldn't stand up, the ceiling was too low. He could sit, but he couldn't spread his legs or lie down completely. The walls were padded, so when he tried to knock on them to see if he had neighbors, nothing happened. The silence was crushing. He could hear his heartbeat, his own breathing. He tried to call. A guard, someone, anyone, but there was no answer. Nothing. Just the silence.

And it lasted for days, weeks, months maybe, at some point he completely lost track of time, of reality, of sanity. He didn't know if he was awake or asleep. He didn't even know if you could actually sleep while in Hell. He didn't need to eat so he certainly didn't need to sleep either. But muscle pain was very real and borderline unbearable.

He tried to stay strong, in the beginning. He thought he had to keep his mind clear. After all this wasn't real torture, was it? It was just a test. That Alastair wanted to see if he could handle being locked up, and he was gonna show him he could. So he found a comfortable enough position and spent his time thinking about how he could escape when given the opportunity. He was fueled by anger, the need of showing that son of a bitch he wasn't to be taken lightly. The problem was anger is consuming, and at some point you need release, you need to direct it at someone. But there was no one else in that cell, no one else than him. So he let it out, after some days, or weeks, he doesn't remember.

He began to shout, to insult, "_Come here you son of a bitch!_", he punched the walls, but it didn't even hurt, it didn't even make a noise. He would have liked to hear something, like on of those sarcastic comments demons like so much, or just a laugh, so he could know...someone was behind that door, if there was any. Wasn't there? He started to think maybe this was Hell, just being locked up, alone, in the dark. Forever. With no one to talk to except yourself.

He started to have trouble breathing. He needed to walk, but he couldn't even stand. He needed some light, but he couldn't even see his own hand. Were his eyes open or closed? Was he conscious or unconscious? So he kept on yelling "_Answer me! Answer me!_", until his throat began to hurt and he realized no one would ever answer.

He had never experienced a panic attack, but he recognized the symptoms when it hit him. He remembered what he used to tell Sam, so he sat down and started to count. Breathe in, one, two, three, for, hold, breathe out one, two, three, four, hold. Think about something nice. Something nice... Sam. During his first days or weeks he had tried to avoid thinking about Sam because he had the intuition missing Sam wouldn't be helpful. But now he needed him, he needed his voice. What would Sam say? "_I'm coming to get you, I haven't abandoned you... Just keep calm, and believe in me, I love you_". Dean slowly managed to breathe evenly and focused on Sam's image. Sam was looking for him. Sam would free him. He just had to be patient.

Holding on to that thought helped him bear with another few days. But as he had planned, he started missing him terribly. Their moments together felt too close and at the same time too far away. After some time, thinking about Sam didn't soothe him anymore. It hurt. The pain was almost physical. So he tried to think about something else, but everything reminded him of Sam. Movies, songs, childhood memories, everything had Sam in it. He needed him. He needed him now or he would drown. Or become raving mad.

_"What if Sam isn't coming?"_

Was that...John's voice?

No. No, no, no. Don't start doubting. That's exactly what he wants, thought Dean. John was dead, John wasn't talking to him. That was just him going crazy with the isolation. Or maybe he was sleeping. Was he? Anyway the voice didn't stop. And strangely, it felt king of...nice. To hear something at last. Even if it wasn't real. Was it?

_"Well think about it. Sam has never been very reliable."_

Dean felt like answering that's not true, but you don't answer crazy voices in your head.

_"What do you mean that's not true? He did leave us. Don't you remember?"_

Had he actually answered? He said

_"Dad? Dad are you there?"_

But nothing came. I'm going nuts, that's it, thought Dean. John can't be here, I can't hear him. This is bullshit. And what was the Hell with "_What if Sam isn't coming_"? That was so John to drop a bomb like this without offering any kind of solution. Because if Sam wasn't coming, then it meant he would stay here to rot forever. Here. In the dark. Alone.

_"Don't leave me alone...Please don't leave me alone..."_

Had he just talked? No, the voice was...high pitched...like a child's voice. It couldn't be him.

_"Please Dad, stay with me..."_

The child was crying now. Where could he be? Were there children in Hell? Did he actually have a cell mate? He tried to call him.

_"Kid? Hey kid? Are you there?"_

The child kept on crying.

_"Dad's left..."_

_"It's gonna be fine...I promise" _said Dean, but the child didn't seem to hear him.

Dean kept hearing his sobs, and it tore him apart to be unable to reach him. There was something familiar about his voice, but he couldn't grasp exactly what. He felt mad at whoever was his father for having left him in such a terrible place. His father was certainly the one responsible for him being in Hell. He had heard about people selling their children to demons and that, that was despicable and...

_Row, row, row your boat,_

_Gently down the stream._

_Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,_

_Life is but a dream_

The little boy had started to sing. Dean knew this song. He knew it very well. It was a song he had learnt in kindergarten. A song his mother used to sing with him when he was little. They used to sit on the living room's carpet, Mary took his little hands in hers, and they rocked back and forth together as if they were on a real boat. It made Dean feel a little dizzy, and after singing it they both ended lying down on the floor laughing.

After Mary's death, the first times John left him with Sammy, he used to sing it alone, and to rock alone, pretending his mother was there with him. It made him feel better, it made him feel at home again. He used to try to remember home, the living room, his bed room. His mother's face. But it was becoming blurry and vague, and it made him even sadder. So he went to Sammy's crib and took him in his arms, cradling him while singing, thinking he would teach him that when he'd be older. And when he became too old for that song, he used to hide and rock whenever he felt sad and lonely.

Dean felt tears running on his cheeks._ I'm going mad_.

_Row, row, row your boat,_

_Gently down the stream._

_Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,_

_Life is but a dream_

The child kept on singing, and Dean put his hands on his ears not to hear him. But this was no use. The voice didn't come from outside. It came from inside his own mind. And it endlessly repeated the song. For minutes. For days. For... Bringing back very vivid memories of his mother, of her smile, her voice. How it had hurt to lose her and how, despite of John's peculiar way of dealing with grief he never had the opportunity to cry his mother's death. To say he was sad. To be comforted. Loved. Tucked in his bed. He was taught to swallow sadness but it was still here, right inside him, lingering in his bones, in his throat. That pain. That loneliness. That fucking song.

Make it stop. Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP! Had he just screamed? He wasn't sure. But the voice had vanished. Now everything was silent again. He was finally alone.

He doesn't like it. He doesn't like being alone. Why is everybody always leaving? He tries his best to be nice but no one sees it. No one. No one.

_"Stop that, you're an adult. They're messing with you. Get yourself back together Winchester this is no time for..."_

_"You're mean"_

_"What?"_

_"You're mean. I don't want to talk to you anymore. I want Dad. I want Sammy. Where is Sammy?"_

**SHUT UP!**

_Row, row, row your boat,_

_Gently down the stream._

_Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,_

_Life is but a dream_

* * *

A bloody artist.


	10. Moon River

Bright light. Almost white.

Dean felt his eyes burn, almost literaly. He hadn't seen any light in weeks and that sudden and crude lighting made him want to scream. But his voice was so hoarse he could just say a weak _"stop that"_ and try to cover his eyes with his arm. The floor he was sit on was cold. Tiles, maybe? And aparently he was still naked. If it didn't bother him that much in the dark, it did make him feel uncomfortable in the light.

All the more since he didn't know if he was alone or not. He tried to blink after a few minutes, but his vision was still blurry. Anyway it felt good to be finally able to stretch his limbs. Well good. He was terribly stiff so it really ached. He didn't know if he would be able to stand on his own. Was he really out? He had spent the last...he didn't know in foetal position, harassed by voices, memories, visions, emotions...He was half restless and half exhausted. On permanent alert and on permanent coma.

_"Here, drink this" _

He felt something cold on his lips. Water. He had never needed to drink back in the cell, but the feeling of water on his lips felt like paradise. He grabbed the glass and drank it greedily, his eyes still closed. Then someone took the glass away and gave him another one, and another one, and another one, until his thirst was quenched.

_"Thank you"_

He muttered, wiping his mouth, and a little out of breath. He tried to blink again and he managed to see a little better. He was in a white room. It was covered with white tiles, and he was sit on the floor, beside what looked like a hospital bed. He grabbed the mattress and tried to pull himself on the bed, but he was too weak and his muscles ached too much. He felt two hands grabbing him from behind and helping him to get on the bed. It was a real bed. Dean sighed with relief. He heard a chuckle.

_"I guess that feels nice"_

The person who helped him walked a few steps and sat on a chair accross the room. He had a man's voice and was dressed in a dark outfit, black or navy blue.

_"Take your time"_ he said, gently before leaving the room.

The room was silent. The voices were gone and for the first time in what seemed like forever he could actually rest. And rest on a bed. He didn't know who pulled him out of his cell but whenever he would see him again, he would thank him. Maybe he was out. Out of Hell. Maybe he was in a real hospital. He felt a little cold, and he found out by groping around his bed had sheets and even a blanket, so he covered himself and drifted off to a dreamless sleep despite the light.

When he woke up. He had recovered his sight. He noticed his room did have a door, but no windows. It was simply furnished. There was a bed, a bedside table, a drawers' chest and a simple plastic chair with a pile of white clothes. He got up and put them on. It felt nice to have clothes again. Even these ones. Somehow it made him feel...human again.

After a few minutes, he began to be tempted to knock on the door, to ask if someone was there. The idea of being locked again started to make him feel terribly had barely regained some kind of sanity and he knew it was very, very fragile. So he sat back on his bed and tried to calm down. He didn't know what he would do if he knocked on the door and no one answered. He actually prefered not to know.

But as if someone right behind the door was reading his thoughts, a man came in, with a polite half smile on his face. Dean recognized him instantly. Alastair.

_"Well hello Dean. Feeling better?"_

Dean felt a "son of a bitch" fighting hard to come out of his mouth, and his fists clenching. Alastair looked at him with a slighly disappointed stare and said

_"Before you say anything boy, know that I can send you back in your cell if you misbehave."_

Dean bit his lip to prevent himself from yelling at him.

_"So, feeling better?"_

_"What do you think?"_ snapped Dean, still pissed.

And suddenly he was back in the dark. He started to punch the walls, yelling "Let me out!" like a maniac. Someone inside him was ordering him to calm down, that he was doing exactly what Alastair wanted but it was too late. He couldn't be back in this coffin, in this tomb, in this well. He couldn't stand the dark, no, please, no, let me out, let me out. He felt himself crumbling into pieces, as if he was made of sand and that a powerful wind was shattering him. He wanted the light again, he wanted more room, no, they couldn't just let him here again. Not after...not after...

Be strong!

No. I'm not strong he thought, I've never been. He lied down in foetal position and tried to control his breathing, but he was overwhelmed with dread. He felt like some creature was eating him alive from the inside and he began to howl like a wounded dog. For minutes. For hours. For days. For...

Light.

_"So. Are we ready to behave or not?"_

Dean was almost smothering with fear, and his face was wet. There was no way he could control that feeling. That claustrophobia. If he went just one more time in this cell he would go irreparably crazy. Or he would die. But he was already dead. Oh God. Oh God.

Oh God.

_"Calm down, you won't go back if you're nice."_

He kept silent this time.

_"So, feeling better?"_ said Alastair, with exactly the same tone than before.

_"Yes."_ answered Dean.

Alastair tilted his head and said

_"Yes?"_

And Dean automatically said

_"Yes Sir."_

Alastair laughed.

_"Good boy. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"_

Dean's first thought was, that bastard is expecting a thank you. Well thank you for leaving me to rot you bastard! I'm going to rip that stupid smile of your face with my nails that's what I want to tell you. He remained silent.

_"Are you sure?"_ said Alastair and something shifted in his eyes.

Dean felt his heart ache as if he were on the verge of having an infarctus. Say thank you. Be clever. Don't piss him off. He's going to send you back in the dark if you keep being a smartass.

_"Thank you."_

Alastair tilted his head again, looking expectant

_"Thank you Sir."_

The demon sighed heavily

_"We've lost a precious time with basic politeness here boy."_

He walked to Dean and violently grabbed his face, digging his nails in Dean's cheek but his face still looking terribly calm.

_"I expect it won't happen again"_

Dean almost said "_Bite me_", but now he knew better. He wasn't in any position to question this demon's authority. Whether he liked it or not, he was at Alastair's mercy.

_"No Sir."_

Alastair released him, and gently tapped on his cheek.

_"Good boy."_

Dean felt like throwing up when he realized he almost liked that contact.

_"Now Dean, I would love to have your input on some work I am doing. Follow me please"_

Alastair opened the door and Dean silently followed him out in a long, abnormaly long corridor. It looked like they were in an old military hospital, like the ones you see in movies about the second world war. There were many, many other rooms, and each of them was guarded by a stood in position female nurse, wearing an old fashioned khaki uniform with hair combed in victory rolls. They could have looked like pin-ups if their faces weren't so disturbingly blank. It was like the 1940's, but in a creepy way.

"_My favorite era",_ said a very enthusiastic Alastair, as if he were reading Dean's thoughts. _"Thrilling times, really."_

His part of the corridor was clean, neat and silent, but the more they walked, the more Dean noticed distressing details. First it was some drops of blood on the floor, and muffled moans coming from behind the closed doors. Then it was more blood, and cries of pain. Loud and wrenching. Some "nurses" were mopping up the blood, and Alastair greeted them with a polite

_"Good job ladies"_

Dean understood what he was walking to. And Alastair was still merrily walking, and had even started whistling.

Dean didn't have a extensive Disney culture contrary to Sam, but this one he knew.

It was "_Whistle While You Work_", from Snow White.

Dean's stomach was in knots, and he began to feel cold sweat running on his back. He wanted to run, but run to where? Alastair wanted him to follow him and that was exactly what he was doing. He could stop walking but then what? If Alastair had decided to torture him, he would still do it. Or he would leave him to rot in his dark cell. There was no escape and that son of a bitch knew it. He was certainly enjoying his powerlessness a lot.

At some point, Alastair opened an glass door, and Dean entered what looked like a surgical block. There was an operating table, a large set of surgical tools, and an even larger set of not very surgical tools, like some knives, an axe and even a soldering iron. Dean tried to hide his fear, and crossed his arms not to show his hands were trembling.

Alastair put on a white coat, and then turned to Dean and said "_sit down_", pointing at a chair in a corner.

Dean sat. He noticed there was an old gramophone on his right, and Alastair asked him to turn it on. It began to play _"Moon River"_, by Andy Williams.

_"I love this song"_ he said, while sharpening a machete. "_I've heard today's music isn't that good, is it?_"

Dean didn't know what to answer. To him, that kind of song was what he'd call gay. It reminded him of cheesy musical movies with greased haired wimps doing tapdance. So he said

_"I guess not"_

And Alastair gave him his little smirk. Something which meant "_you're starting to understand how it works_". A nurse then came in with a terrified woman. She was wearing chains and she was begging Alastair for mercy, pleading with a trembling voice, "_please, please sir not again, please_", and crying. Alastair walked towards her and slapped so violently she fell on the ground. Dean ran to her, and Alastair kicked him in the face. He was apparently wearing safety boots now.

_"I am disappointed in you. I thought you were a fast learner. Oh well...Doris?"_

_"Yes Sir!" _answered the nurse

_"Bring me my restraining device please. And you"_ he said, turning to Dean who was spitting blood on the floor, _"stay right there"._

What Alastair called his "restraining device" was basically an X-cross. It could have made Dean smile in another context, but now he wasn't at all amused by the prospect of being tied to it. Doris, or whatever was her name, helped by two other demons, lifted him up and tried to position him on the cross. "Don't let them crucify you without a fight", thought Dean, and he started to punch and kick the demons under the bored gaze of Alastair.

_"Oh dear..._", he said, "_You're not very smart, are you?_" while Dean was overpowered and hit back by the demons.

Dean spit blood at him and said

_"What? You're gonna torture me anyway so go fuck yourself!"_

Alastair lifted an eyebrow and replied

_"So rude." _ and he wiped off the blood stains on his jacket with an embroidered handkerchief.

Dean was then thrown on the cross, and saw the belts tighten themselves. They were so tight it hurt if he tried to move even a little.

Alastair walked close to him and stared at him with contempt.

_"I think you're pretty bold for someone who likes to sodomize his brother"_

Dean was so shocked he was unable to answer. The demon smiled.

_"So, maybe I could reply to your pleasant advise 'go fuck your brother', but I'm afraid you would consider it a very enjoyable idea"_

_"Don't talk about him." _muttered Dean.

Alastair slapped him

_"You're not in any position to give orders here boy."_

Dean stared at him with boiling rage

_"I think you should spend some time alone and think about what you've done. For example think about what Daddy dearest would have to say about you buggering little Sammy."_

Dean yelled

_"Fuck you!"_

Alastair laughed

_"You wish. Take him away"._

Dean was brought back to the white room, and his whole body hurt. He certainly had a dislocated shoulder, he knew how it felt, and his left knee was sprained and had begun to swell. Being tied on the cross was terribly painful, he even had trouble breathing. He noticed there was a clock on the wall, and that's how he knew he was left there, tied up under that crude light, without a drop of water to drink, for three whole days.

At the end of the third day, his tongue had doubled in size, half of his left leg was purple and he couldn't feel his arms anymore. He hadn't had a minute of sleep because of the pain and the light, and he was exhausted physically and nervously. In the real world, he would have thought death would come soon and relief with it, but there was no such thing here. Just endless suffering.

At that moment, Alastair came in, and sat down in front of him, crossed legged, and he lit a cigar.

_"Cuban! The best..."_

He smoked and made smoke circles, looking very satisfied. Dean didn't know if he wanted to scream or cry. Did that son of a bitch realize that since he arrived here he had absolutely no idea why he was going through all this? Why was he doing that to him, except for mere sadism? What was the purpose, if there was one?

_"Oh Dean, of course there is a purpose in what I do."_ he said, smiling. _"I'm just a soldier, you know. I work for something bigger than me. Just like you"_

Dean frowned

_"You think we're so different you and me. But we're not. We're two soldiers, belonging to two different armies. The only difference is if we were in actual armies, I would be...let's say...a general, and you would be a simple soldier. Or maybe a sergent. Tops."_

He rose from his chair, and started to walk around the room, still smoking.

_"So you follow orders, and I follow other orders. You think yours are better than mine, I think mine are better than yours. That's the history of war. It's been like this since the beginning of times"._

Dean tried to speak, but he couldn't.

_"Oh, you must be thirsty of course."_

Alastair filled a glass with water, and gave some to Dean, who at first refused to drink. _"Don't be ridiculous"_, said Alastair, and he finally accepted to drink, and it felt, again like heaven.

After a few minutes, Dean was at last able to talk.

_"What do we say?"_ asked Alastair and Dean quickly answered _"Thank you, Sir."_, knowing what could happen if he didn't comply.

_"Good, good, we're making progress! I know what you were going to say. I'm doing the right thing. Weren't you?"_

Dean looked confused.

_"Well guess what, so do I. I'm doing what's right for my side."_

_"Your side kills people"_, said Dean, expecting to be hit or sent away.

Alastair sat back on his chair.

_"Yours too. People kill people. All the time. I've been around for a long time boy... Do you also hunt human serial killers? Human genocidal dictators?"_

Dean closed his eyes.

_"And what about child rapists?"_

Dean looked at him with hateful eyes, knowing what was coming.

_"Oh come on. You pride yourself for having a good sense of right and wrong. You can't tell me you think it's right."_

_"He isn't a child." he muttered._

_"Well, he used to be. Did you like him that way then?"_

Dean shouted

_"No!"_

_"Are you sure?"_

Alastair smirked.

_"I'm not a pervert"_ grunted Dean

Alastair rose again and walked to Dean, getting the closest possible.

_"When you do it... You never think about it? About the child he used to be?"_

Dean tried to say something but Alastair covered his mouth with his hand

_"Of course you do. Don't you? That wakes you up a night sometimes... And then you think about what Daddy would say"_

Alastair approached his mouth to Dean's ear, and with dread, Dean heard... John's voice.

_"When I asked you to take care of Sam, I didn't mean fuck your brother Dean."_

Dean screamed in Alastair's hand. The demon then went to his other ear and said

_"And what would your old friend Bobby say? Oh I know: 'I'd never thought you'd be able to do something like that son'. Right, uh?"_

Dean felt tears running on his cheeks. He knew this was manipulation, but this was too much.

Alastair walked two steps back, crossed his arms and said

_"So you know it's not right, don't you?"_

Dean closed his eyes, trying to stop weeping.

_"Despite everything your darling brother said"_ he continued in a high pitched voice _"we're not like everyone else Dean, we're special, we don't live by the same set of rules"_

He laughed

_"You know it. You know rules are rules. You know you sinned, and you know you loved it."_

He came back to Dean and caught his chin to turn his face to him. Dean's eyes were still closed

_"Look at me little bitch"_

Dean angrily opened his eyes, tears still falling

_"Repeat: rules are rules"_

He stuttered a little but repeated it.

_"Good boy. Now listen. There are rules here too. Well, just one. Follow my orders. If you don't I will punish you. Say you understand."_

_"I understand."_

Alastair went on, with a harsher tone

_"I can send you back to your cage for the next ten years, or I can throw you in the middle of a demons crowd and see how many of them would like to fuck you until they split you in half. You and your family killed a lot of our friends, and I'm pretty sure every single demon here would love to have a piece of Dean Winchester."_

He licked his lips, and made a dreadful smile, enjoying the effect of his threat. Dean remained silent, hate boiling inside him.

Alastair sat on his chair and said

_"So, what do you say boy?"_

Dean raised his face and said, coldly,

_"I say fuck your rules."_

Alastair laughed.

_"I knew you were trouble."_

**_Dark._**

Dean learnt later this was his first six months in Hell. After that, he remained in his cage for another six months, and still had the strength to say "Bite me" to Alastair. That's when he began to be tortured everyday. But it didn't last for thirty years, as he told Sam, and there was no deal, no _"start torturing and it will stop"_. It was just endless and apparently aimeless torture. Alastair didn't want anything from him. He didn't ask him questions, he didn't talk to him, he didn't even look at him. Dean became a number, 68330-73525, and everyday, Alastair cut him, burn him, did the most terrible things to him while listening to Moon River. At night, he was thrown in what looked like a prison cell, just the time for him to fear the coming morning and slowly drift into madness.

After a week, Dean started to regret his cage. After two weeks, he even regretted Alastair's voice. After three weeks, he began to beg him to send him back to the dark, and after a month, he was.

That's during this year period he remained in his cage that his personality split. The little boy, Sam's lover and his idealist side were no match for Alastair. The only one able to face him without crumbling, to respect the demon's orders while plotting his revenge, was the soldier. Dean surrendered and put on his war mask. And this time, when he got out, he followed Alastair to his torture room. This time, he had to watch him.

He spent days, weeks, months watching Alastair torturing souls, just like the way he had been. Eyes forcibly open, body tied up to the X-cross. Alastair didn't let him sleep sometimes for a week in a row, asking him endlessly the same questions until he answered what he wanted him to.

_"Why are you a hunter?"_

_"Because I was raised to be." "Why are you a hunter?" "Because my father..." "Why are you a hunter?" "Because my mother..." "Why are you a hunter?" "Because my brother..." "Why are you a hunter?" "Because that's what we do." "Why are you a hunter?" "Because I like it." "Why are you a hunter?" "Because I hate monsters" "Why are you a hunter?" "Because I like to kill monsters"_

_"Why are you a hunter?" _

_"Because I like to kill."_

_"Good boy"_

When he considered Dean had made progress, he let him sleep in his comfortable hospital bed in the white room, and had long conversations, well, monologues, about how he wasn't a sadist, but a craftsman. About how he liked what he did not because he liked to hurt people, but because he knew he was serving a higher purpose. He said many people did unrewarding jobs but were nevertheless proud of working hard. That was his case. Most of the time, he said, we're unable to grasp the complexity of the plans we're a part of. But when we work hard, we have the satisfaction of contributing to something greater than us. The inner peace lies in the following of orders.

Everytime Dead didn't respect one of Alastair's orders, he regressed to the previous stage, and as Alastair said, the torture part was far from being the worst one. And everytime he was sent back, it was linked to Alastair talking about Sam. He ended up understanding Sam was his worst pressure point, and that in order to survive he had to separate himself from his brother and let even more mental space, ifnot all, to the Soldier. He had to repeat what Alastair wanted him to say about Sam, and it was even easier since it was more or less what the soldier thought.

Sam wasn't loyal, Sam had never respected their commander. He didn't care about hierarchy, or orders, or Order. He was only bringing chaos upon their lives. His mother had died because of something involving Sam, his father too and now Dean was in Hell because of him. Because Sam corrupted him to the point he believed he was in love with him. Making him breaking his promise to his commander, breaking his vows, his moral code. Sam was an oathbreaker. And sooner or later, he would betray him, because that's what oathbreakers do. They find another cause to defend, other loyalties, and they forget the previous ones.

After ten years and about twenty regressions, Dean managed to witness people being tortured without being tied up. He also managed to answer Alastair's questions the way he wanted, and to participate to his conversations about duty, orders, moral values and higher purposes.

After twenty years, and a dozen of regressions, he managed to watch tortures without blinking. He could even have a conversation while watching. But during the night, he dedicated his nights thinking about how he would torture Alastair the day he would get the chance.

After thirty years, Alastair handed him his knife over and asked him to torture in his place.

Dean hesitated, he had seen Alastair torturing people a million times maybe, and admitted as many times he liked killing and torturing. But someone inside him was screaming. Asking him not to do it. Telling him this wasn't him. That he was good, the best human being who had ever existed. That he just needed to be a little more patient.

Sam's voice. He hadn't heard it in years. And here it was.

A tear fell on the operating table.

Here it was to weaken him again.

He grabbed the knife and stared at Alastair, his eyes filled with cold hatred. Alastair smiled and said

_"Good boy. You're just like that promising young corporal I met, many years ago, tough enough to withstand any storm. And just like him, you've understood you shall never forget that all your virtues and all your strength can achieve something only by obedience to a single will and one command. You've learnt how to obey, and you know if some day you have to give orders, you shall be obeyed in precisely the same way you now obey me. Right?"_

_"Right."_

_"I hope you, you won't disappoint me like he did"_

Alastair rose and put the gramophone on.

_Moon River, wider than a mile, _

_I'm crossing you in style some day. _

_Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker, _

_Wherever you're going I'm going your way. _

Dean started to slice.

_Two drifters off to see the world. _

_There's such a lot of world to see. _

_We're after the same rainbow's end_

_Waiting 'round the bend, _

The man on the table began to howl.

_My Huckleberry friend, _

_Moon River and me_

Alastair smiled and said

_"Good boy"._


	11. Tomorrow

Dean has been awfully silent since they left Jodie's, and Sam is wondering if it was a good idea to ask him about what he said to that vampire.

When Dean's hands are clenched around the wheel to the point his knuckles are white, it means don't talk, don't cough, don't look at him too long. Especially when there's no music. It's going to be a long drive.

In these moments, Dean looks like John. They have the same "don't piss me off" expression, and Sam remembers it used to scare them a lot when they were little, and it was even worse when Dean was old enough to sit in the front. How many times did Sam see his father slap the back of Dean's head because he was talking to him...too many. And Dean still found the strength to smile to him in the rearview. Sam sighs.

_"What?"_ says Dean.

And here we are, thinks Sam.

_"Nothing"_ he replies turning to the window. If Dean doesn't want to start a fight he's going to back off. Sam can feel almost physically the electricity filling the car. But nothing happens. After a few awkward minutes, Sam sits more comfortably and stretches out his right leg, putting his foot on the windshield.

_"Don't do that" _

Dean grabs his ankle and puts Sam's leg back into place. Sam tries to hide his smile, he knows where this is going.

_"Why?"_

Dean starts to look annoyed

_"You know why! I told you a million times! It's dangerous, Sammy. If we had an accident..."_

_"I could say goodbye to my leg and start a new career as a pirate"_

Sam and Dean stare at each other for a second and then both laugh like children. That was indeed something Dean used to tell Sam since he was old enough to sit next to him on the passenger's seat. Sam usually answered "Ahrr!" or "Ahoy Captain!" before putting his leg down. He hasn't told that to him in maybe fifteen years.

Dean catches his breath and says

_"I was just gonna say you could be badly hurt but god that brings me back!"_

He smiles, still laughing a little, and Sam can't stop staring at him. He's always loved his beautiful, carefree smile. The one he makes when he's really happy. Now he's older, it creates adorable wrinkles around his eyes, he still has his cute little dimples and his even cuter constellation of freckles and oh god, Sam wishes he could just ask him to stop the car so he can eat him alive.

Dean is right, he_ is_ greedy. But he can't do that just yet, even if the sun is setting, he needs an explanation for what happened earlier, and now the mood is lightened it's going to be easier to talk when they get back to the bunker. Or maybe once they're alone, Sam is going to have a real hard time being a responsible adult. It's like he's twenty-two again. A lovestruck fool. He never really controlled anything in their relationship, and if he did in the beginning, it was because Dean was restraining himself. Like when they made love for the first time. Dean wanted Sam to be rough with him but he was the complete opposite, careful, gentle, almost too gentle. Sam wanted to feel Dean's strength, he wanted to be subdued, even if he had a hard time admitting it, it was an old teenage fantasy. And there were others, lots of others. Like the one involving the Impala's trunk. Oh god.

Sam can't control himself, his hunger, his urges. He's not violent but he's bold, and he can't wait, anticipation makes him crazy when Dean... Dean has an impressive ability to contain himself, even when it comes to them.

That's how he was able to act perfectly normal the morning after their first time. Rational. Saying they should train to keep acting brotherly during the day so their relationship couldn't be used as a liability. He was right, of course he was, but Sam couldn't hide his frustration and went straight to the bathroom to calm down. He couldn't face him just yet, with his straight face, reading the paper like nothing had happened, when he was boiling, boiling! He went inside the shower, and five minutes later, he heard the door open.

_"Sam?"_ said Dean, with a smile in his voice, "_Sam, you mad?_"

Sam thought "_you jerk_", bit his lip to prevent himself from talking, breathed in, and finally said "_No, m'fine_", with a, let's be honest, a very sulky tone.

Dean laughed. Of course he did.

"_Listen Sammy, you know I'm right, don't you?_"

Sam took ten seconds and then muttered "_yeah I know_".

Dean sighed.

_"I know what you're thinking and you're wrong"_

Sam turned off the shower.

_"What am I thinking?"_

He grabbed a towel and got out. He saw Dean, his back leaned on the bathroom's wall with a hint of interest in his eyes. Dean smirked and said

_"You know."_

Sam walked to him, his towel wrapped around his waist, but not concealing the obvious, until he was a little too close.

_"Tell me."_

Dean rolled his eyes, and gently pushed him away.

_"Sam... Don't."_

_"Don't what!"_

_"Don't do that."_

Sam sat on the toilet seat and certainly made his "sad puppy" face because Dean walked back to him, crouched and said

_"Come on... I don't regret it, there, you're happy?"_

Sam mumbled

_"You don't?"_ almost adding a _"you promise?"_ but stopping himself before sounding very immature.

Dean smiled, brushed Sam's face with his fingers and whispered

_"I don't."_

And he kissed him gently. Of course then Sam grabbed him and fell upon him, deepening the kiss and trying to get his shirt off, while he was throwing his bath towel away. But surprisingly, Dean flipped him over and forcibly maintained him on the ground. It felt strangely exciting

_"Listen"_, said Dean with something feral in his eyes, and a little hungry half smile, "_you should get a hold on yourself Sammy, you're way too greedy_", he smiled more. Sam tried to move, but he couldn't, so he smiled right back at Dean and replied

_"Is that troubling you?"_ while pushing his hips upwards.

Dean bent over him until his lips were an inch away from Sam's and said

_"I don't think I'm the one who's troubled right now."_

_"Jerk." _responded Sam, looking daring.

_"Bitch", _added Dean, knowing his line.

_"Yours" _concluded Sam, and Dean smiled, but still got up and left the room, leaving Sam burning with frustration. It was the first time he understood he wouldn't be that much in control of anything anymore.

The second time was one of his favorite intimate memories, and since he has to pass the time until they arrive to the bunker, he may as well think about it again, even if it means they will definitely not have any kind of articulate conversation later.

It was after Sam had killed Gordon. They were getting closer and closer to the end of the deal, and Sam was getting increasingly worried about it, since they hadn't found any solution yet. Dean was acting way too carelessly, he even wanted to kill the crazy now vampire hunter on his own. He was obviously scared, but as usual, he was hiding it behind stupid punchlines and a kamikaze attitude. In the end, Sam made him drop the act, and he was the one to decapitate that nutjob.

Later, Dean showed him how to fix his car, and Sam knew it was a very Dean way to admit he was scared he was going to die.

So when they arrived to the night's motel, Sam barely let him the time to close the room's door before kissing him. Dean pushed him and said

_"Sammy..."_

Sam looked at him, right in the eye and claimed

_"You're not going to die"_

Dean combed Sam's hair back and began to run his fingers through it

_"Baby... Maybe we should..."_

_"No. No. I forbid you." _

He started to feel tears coming to his eyes and he was mad at himself for being such a wimp. He wasn't the one who was gonna go to Hell, damn it!

Dean hugged him and just said "_Ok._", before kissing him gently and starting to unpack.

They had a light dinner, and they spent quite a lot of time patching their wounds up, especially Dean who had been bitten by crazy Gordon. Sam couldn't help kissing his nape, brushing his back with his fingers... He was filled with anxiety, with the fear of loosing Dean, of letting him down. And Dean was terribly silent. Then they both went to sleep in their own bed, afraid of hurting each other if they slept together.

It was only around 2 or 3 in the morning that Sam was awaken by Dean asking if he was sleeping.

_"Not anymore love...you ok?"_

Dean was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

_"Yeah...I just wanted...to ask you something..."_

_"Ok, I'm listening."_

"What will you do if I... if I die?"

Sam sat and pleaded

_"Dean..."_

Dean didn't move

_"Please... I need to know."_

_"You won't die. I forbid it."_

Dean looked at him, with shiny eyes and a sad smile.

_"Baby..."_

Sam sighed, got up and sat on Dean's bed.

"_If you die_", his voice trembled, "_I will make you come back. Whatever the cost. I will."_

Dean rose and kissed him

_"If it's the moment when you tell me to have an apple-pie life and to forget about you then you can go f..."_

_"I love you."_

Sam froze. Dean closed his eyes and continued.

_"I love you so much, I don't even know... I..._" he kissed him again. "_It freaks me out Sammy._"

"_Why?_" said Sam, caressing the corner of Dean's eye until he opened it, "_Why, Dean?_"

_"Because... I know I shouldn't...prevent you from having a normal life...a future...and in the meantime..."_

_"What"_

_"I want you right here. With me. Always."_

Sam hugged him.

_"That's what I want too Dean. Why is it so difficult for you to understand?"_

He felt Dean's arms embracing him tight, and he kissed the base of his neck.

_"I just want you to be happy",_ said Dean.

Sam backed off a little and looked at his brother

_"You think I can't be happy with you?"_

Dean sighed.

_"Sammy... I...What we do..."_

_"Dean, I love what we do. I think I showed you, and repeatedly"_ said Sam, trying to make him smile.

Dean smiled a little but added

"_You don't know what... sometimes... I want to do things... I did things and... You wouldn't...shit..._" apparently he had a lot of trouble explaining what he meant but Sam got it

_"I know you're restraining yourself."_ he said_ "I know you're letting me make the first move because you're still afraid you forced this on me."_

Dean looked at him, visibly amazed at Sam's ability to translate his internal turmoil into something understandable.

_"Love, you didn't. And I want you to be...you. With me. I want you to do...what you want to do."_

Dean said

_"You don't know..."_

Sam cut

_"What? Let me make it easier for you. You know what I want to do? I want you to fuck me on the Impala's hood. I've been dreaming about it for years. There, you got it. I have a filthy mind."_

Dean laughed whole-heartedly, and looked at Sam with mischief.

_"Oh God Sammy..."_

He kissed him and said

_"Thanks."_

Sam smiled

_"You're welcome. And stop torturing yourself ok? I love you, I trust you and there's nothing, you hear me, nothing you could do to me do that would ever scare me or push me away, ok? You're stuck with me."_

Back then he didn't know how wrong this assumption would prove to be.

He went back to his bed and added

_"Now get some sleep, I think Gordy hurt you enough without you adding guilt on top of it"_

In the morning, he woke up first and went straight to the bathroom. He had noticed the water heater was small, and he really needed a long hot shower since he felt quite sore thanks to Gordon. When he got out of the shower, he walked to the sink to brush his teeth and wiped the mirror with his towel. He saw Dean was standing in the corner of the room, only wearing his boxers. He stared at him in the mirror, and saw hiw brother slowly walk towards him and then crouch. He was going to turn around when he felt Dean's mouth kissing the back of his right thigh, and then slowly going upwards, sometimes licking the remaining drops of water lingering on his skin.

He grabbed the sink and closed his eyes.

He felt Dean's finger sliding on his stomac, and then he heard him whisper in his right ear "_open your eyes_". He complied. The mirror was a little misted up, but he could see himself quite clearly. He was flushed, his mouth was open, and his eyes seemed almost black. Dean emerged from behind his back he had started to kiss again and began to touch him below. Sam moaned loudly and before he could do anything, he heard "_Look_". And he did.

He had never been the kind of guy to rent a hotel room with a mirror on the ceiling, but this was the most exciting and troubling thing he had ever done. He was watching Dean's hand moving up and down, while his face remained calm, so calm when he was panting and begging, and his face was...

God.

Dean was licking his fingers and Sam knew what was coming, he was already burning with anticipation. Dean smiled a little wicked smile. Sam looked at himself in the mirror, he had a desperate expression, he started to feel a little ashamed and it was oddly appealing.

He jolted when he felt Dean's finger, and his hips started to move on their own. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on his sensations but he heard "_No, no, no_" in his ear again, and he opened his eyes, only to see himself bent over the sink, looking rabid, biting his lips to stop moaning. He felt even more indecent, but it made him strangely attracted to his reflection.

Dean suddenly stopped touching him, and promptly took off his boxers, pressing himself against Sam.

_"God!"_ said Sam, almost hurt by the sudden frustration.

Dean kissed his nape and said

_"Do you..."_

Sam snapped

_"Now...do it...or I'll fucking kill you"_

Dean went inside him and Sam screamed. His eyes were wide open, and their reflection made him even more lustful. He had a very quick and extremely strong orgasm which made him punch the wall and almost hurt his hand.

Dean turned him around and kissed him, still panting and Sam said

_"I think you've just gone against your "not-during-the-day" policy"_ and they both laughed, Dean adding

_"You're the one who says all the time we don't always have to respect the rules"_

And Sam replied

_"And I'm damn right. This was..." _he kissed Dean "_this was beyond my wildest expectations. And I have a lot."_

Dean smiled and looked...shy?

_"I have a few of my own..."_ he said, and he casually walked out the room.

Bastard, thought Sam, while getting back in the shower.

_"Sammy? Sammy we're home."_

Dean's voice... Apparently he must have fallen asleep. Home. Is it really...Do they really have a home together? Sam remembers a few weeks ago Dean asked him why he didn't make himself a little bit more at home in the bunker. Sam answered it was because everytime he tried to build a home it didn't end well but... he never actually tried to build a home with him. They used to think about it before Hell, and then Ruby happened. And the Pit. His soulless year. Lisa. Purgatory. Amelia. Gadriel. Kevin... Was it Dean's way to tell him he considered it again? Dean's way to show he was trying to mend what had been broken years ago. How did he miss that?

_"Hey...already?"_

Dean is smiling, looking cocky.

_"What? You were having a nice dream?"_

Oh shit, thinks Sam. He coughs. He still wants to have a serious talk with Dean about the Mark. It worries him. A lot. And maybe they could also talk about that "home" thing too.

_"Kinda, yeah. Hum"_

They enter the bunker, and Sam heads straight to the kitchen to make them some tea and coffee. Dean follows him a few minutes later and he kisses him right behind his ear, whispering

_"What were you dreaming about?"_

Sam sighes. He definitely has no control over this. He answers

_"You."_

They can have a proper conversation tomorrow.

Right?


	12. Terrible Jokes

A bad joke. It could only be a terrible joke.

Dean was standing on his motel room's threshold when he had been dead for four months, when he had tried everything, everything to bring him back. And now some demon was playing with him?

Did these bastards had any idea of what it had been for him to find out there was no way he could rescue his brother? Despite everything he promised, he had failed him, and those sons of bitches found it hilarious. Just like when they sent him a trickster to make him star in a twisted version of Groundhog Day when Dean died at the end of every single fucking day. To show him he wouldn't be able to save him. Ever.

Because he could have. He could have if he had just found the strength to stand up to Dean's righteousness and his "you don't work with a demon" thing. He refused to listen to Ruby, he refused to train, because it was Bad. And because of that, he had lost Dean, he had witnessed him being ripped apart by hellhounds because he was a god damn obedient idiot. Because Dean was a god damn obedient idiot.

How many nights did he spend howling in his bed like a maniac because there was no one beside him, because he had never missed anyone the way he missed him? He kept on remembering their last night together, at Bobby's. They couldn't do anything because old house equals thin walls, but it was fine. They just spent the whole night embraced, Sam lying on Dean, his face resting on his chest,endlessly repeating the same promises, the same vows. Dean had even found the will to talk, and Sam remembered every single word.

_"I want you to know I don't regret anything. I want you to know I've never been...happier...in my whole life, than during those months spent with you. Baby...If I die tomorrow..."_

Sam started to cry then

_"If I die tomorrow, I'll die happy."_

_"Dean..."_

_"That's true... I just wish...I realized it earlier...When you asked me the first time. If there's anything I regret in my life, that's not the life I had or Dad or monsters or whatever it's...not taking that fucking bus ticket."_

Sam laughed, still crying though. He hugged Dean tighter and said

_"I still have it."_

_"What?"_

_"The ticket, I still have it."_

Dean looked at him, his eyes widened with surprise.

_"You do?"_

Sam turned his face to him

_"Yeah... I've always kept it in my wallet like a... I don't know... talisman? I think I never really...stopped... hoping you would join me...some day"_

Tears appeared in Dean's eyes, and he started to smoothe Sam's hair.

_"You want it?"_

_"What?"_

_"The ticket? You want it? It's yours."_ said Sam, with tears in his voice, trying to smile.

_"Yeah..."_ said Dean, visibly moved

Sam rose and went to his bag, he took his wallet and came back to the bed.

_"You have a lot of stuff, what's all this?" _

Sam had took out of his wallet a little pile of different papers. There were cinema tickets, restaurant cards, and a couple of pictures, pictures of them, as children. Dean looked at the pile, intrigued

_"This is..."_

_"Souvenirs, yeah...of...things we did...Look hum there is...the Phantom Menace ticket"_

_"God that was so bad..."_

Sam laughed

_"Yeah it was!"_

He picked another paper

_"That was the diner where you took me for my sixteenth birthday..."_

He felt Dean's hand on his back, and he looked at him discretely. His eyes were filled with tears and he was biting his lip.

_"And here is your bus ticket"_

Dean took it, with a slightly shaky hand.

_"You kept all that...Even when you were..."_

Sam took his hand

_"With Jess yeah..."_

_"But I thought..."_

Sam kissed Dean's hand

_"I thought too but in the end... I was never able to toss it. You don't know how many times I looked at these...thinking about...where you were, what you were doing... And I was trying to...convince myself it was just... brotherly concern, you know?"_

Dean smiled

_"I know exactly."_

_"But now I know..." _Sam repressed a sob,_ "I was missing you... and I wish..." _he started to cry, "_I wish I could go back and decide to stay with you instead of leaving like a fucking coward!"_

Dean hugged him tight

_"You were not a coward, you were never a coward... I was... I should have followed you..."_

Sam laughed in Dean's shirt

_"What's so funny?"_

_"We're fighting to decide who's the worst. It's quite a guilty-party here."_

Sam sat back and wiped his eyes.

_"You're right... you're right baby..."_

Sam kissed him, and Dean kissed him back softly, holding his face with his right hand.

_"Listen, I still got two days all right? A lot of things can happen in two days..."_

Sam looked at him, determined and said

_"I'll save you."_

And Dean kissed him again. But he knew, he knew then there was nothing that could be done, right? This was goodbye. But he was being so very Dean in trying to conceal the truth until the end, trying to make him feel better, even singing fucking Bon Jovi in the car while driving to his death. Why?

Why?

Why was destiny such a bitch?

Since Dean's death he had been trying to die. Then he was found by Ruby, and she told him she could help him having his revenge. And for once he listened. After all there was no one to tell him what to do anymore, right?

No one.

Not even Bobby. He wanted to burn Dean's body. Salt it and burn it, he said, that old geezer, you gotta do what's right.

You gotta do what's right. That was a damn John thing to say. What's right. Don't care about the consequences. Don't care about your friends getting killed, about your children getting hurt, about your oldest son being traumatized for life by what you've put him through. It's right, right? It doesn't matter if you scar such a beautiful soul, someone who could have been...who knows? A doctor? A humanitarian? A simple family man, but whose kids would have remembered as the best dad ever? So much potential, so much intelligence, so much love...wasted. Wasted in that stupid life, with its stupid principles. Kill the monster! But who's the fucking monster? Hunters or creatures, they both feed of children, they both...

He used to ignore what hate was.

He understood why Dean was drinking so much, why Dean liked to smash skulls so much because it helped, hell yeah it helped dealing with everyday. With the sun insisting on rising every morning when it was clearly useless because there was no need for light in a world where Dean was dead. How could he be the only one to see that?

How?

He remembered trying to stitch up Dean's wounds, so he wouldn't look so hurt, so he wouldn't look so...dead. Wiping the blood away, while swallowing his tears and his anger. Because he was angry, desperately angry. He had so much to tell him and he couldn't because Bobby was right behind the door, so he said stupid coded things only Dean would understand like "_You did your job perfectly_" or "_I'll remember what you taught me all my life_". And of course "_I won't let you down_". He put him some clean clothes, and he took off Dean's amulet, the one he offered him so many years ago, for Christmas. The one Dean had never stopped wearing. And he put it around his neck. Then he slipped the old bus ticket into Dean's pocket, having more and more difficulty to fight the tears coming to his eyes, and after checking Bobby wasn't behind him, he quickly kissed him goodbye. But this was no farewell. This was a see you soon. In life or in death.

After trying everything from opening the Doors of Hell to selling his soul, he understood the only thing he could ever get was revenge. And that's all he could think about, revenge and death. His death. He would die on the battlefield like John would have liked him to, and maybe that day he wouldn't feel so hollow anymore.

And suddenly there he was. Standing on his doorstep. So Sam grabbed his knife and tried to kill him because after all this time, all this pain and all these failures it could only be a demented farce.

But it wasn't.

Bobby was here, right behind Dean saying _"It's him Sam, it's really him"._

So Sam dropped the knife and hugged him strong enough to smother him, submerged by a wave of joy, love, gratitude, ache, fear, pain and loss.

Ruby said "_So...you're like...together?"_

And Sam looked at her, then at Bobby and understood she was warning him. So he let go. Reluctantly. Because she knew. He didn't even have to tell her, she guessed. She said that wasn't such a well kept secret.

"_Come on Sam. Even if you did it behind closed doors... I mean the looks you gave to each other, the unease when one of you touched the other in public...That was kind of obvious."_

Sam looked at her with barely concealed hate.

_"So what? You're a love expert now?"_

Ruby ignored his remark and said with sassy eyes

_"I'm not but I'm sure I'm not the only one who noticed. Am I?"_

And of course she wasn't. These last months it had happened several times. People thinking they were gay, proposing them king size beds, wondering if they were antiquers because they had "the style", that kind of things. It used to make Dean mad. Poor Dean. Never able to get past his homophobia.

_"I don't get it Sammy? Why the hell do they always assume we're together?"_ he said once, looking really confused.

And Sam had answered

_"I don't know Dean, maybe it's because you're looking at me with"_, he started singing _"huuuunnngry eyes"_

Dean replied

_"What the Hell is that?"_

Sam went on singing

_"One look at you and I can't disguise..."_

Dean looked interrogative

_"Oh come on Dean! Dirty Dancing?"_

Dean had a half disgusted half amused expression. He let himself fall on his bed.

_"Dude! Dirty Dancing? Could you be more gay?"_

Sam grinned.

_"And don't blame Jess for knowing that fucking movie!"_

So of course Ruby had noticed, and she quickly added she didn't judge. It made Sam crazy, he said, of course you don't judge, you're a fucking demon. And then she replied so what, you consider you were doing something wrong? And Sam didn't know what to answer. Because he didn't want to agree with her and in the meantime, he had never thought Dean and him were doing something evil or twisted. In the end he thought, fuck it. Fuck all of it.

He decided he could have sex with Ruby if he wanted to. After all as she had said, she was alone in coma girl's body so what was the real problem? Yes she was a demon but she was also the one who could have saved Dean, the one he shunned then because he was a stiff bastard. And the one who saved him from drowning in bourbon and comitting suicide by demon. So what? Huh? What? It felt nice. It made him feel a little better and the blood... The blood made him feel almost good. Almost in control of his feelings, of his life. He could be efficient again, he could think clear. So that was wrong too maybe, right? If he had asked any one of those self righteous pricks of hunters, they would have told him no to do it. Because it was wrong - and always remember to pronounce wrong with a sinister tone, like Wroooong- and it was better to ruin your liver until a werewolf chopped your head off.

But it was over now. He didn't know how, and he frankly didn't care. Dean was here, right here with him.

He saw tears in Dean's eyes. He had to fight with everything he had not to push him on the wall and to kiss him everywhere. He felt so overwhelmed he could have collapsed on the floor and cried like a child.

Sam wakes up in tears and his first move is looking for Dean in the dark until he finally touches his arm and sighes with relief. He's here. He hates dreaming about that part of his life, and it only happens when he worries about something related to them. He's been stupid yesterday, they should have talked instead of baptizing the kitchen's counter. But Dean wanted it, and it had been such a long time since he last initiated anything that Sam didn't find the strength to tell him no.

He gets up and walks to the kitchen. He needs to drink some coffee, just to clear his mind, and to stop the headache that's slowly invading his skull. He stopped drinking bourbon years ago, when he was in demon blood rehab and he swore then to never abuse it again. But right now he'd really like to pour some in his mug. He has a bad presentiment. Something bad is going to happen, something really bad.

And he's being an idiot again, just like when Dean came back from Hell and he thought they could be together again, in spite of everything. Despite Dean having spent not four months but forty years in Hell, being tortured every single day until he accepted to torture souls. Sam had refused to see it then, the change in Dean's eyes, in how he touched him, as if he was... using him or trying to find something that was gone. Keeping his eyes closed. And then drinking, drinking, drinking. His judgmental gaze. His harsh words. John's words. If you walk out that door I never want to see you again. You're a monster. Sam almost said _"You're not my brother"_. Because back then, Dean had always said John had been completely unfair. Because Dean had always repeated to him he wasn't a monster, that he wasn't defined by three drops of Azazel's blood. There's not any bad bone in your body Sammy, that's what he used to say.

That Dean wasn't his. His was gone.

These last few days it feels like he has him back, a little. And this time, it's that fucking blade that is getting between them.

Dean is weak when it comes to power. Sam knows what it's like. How intoxicating it can be to feel powerful. But for Dean, it goes even further, into his old childhood traumas. Everytime he's given a role to play, he's more than happy to satisfy his... it's hard to say... his master. Just like it's John, all over again. He's still seeking approval in some father figures' eyes, whoever they belong to, as long as they tell him he's important, that he's needed. And he always realizes he's been exploited way too late.

This time it's Crowley. Crowley tricked him into bearing the Mark and god knows what it's doing to Dean. But there's no way to make him understand that right now. He's like a child with a new toy. See Sam? I'm important. I'm not just some tool or variable in a war that is way bigger than me, no, I'm essential. It makes Sam want to tell him "_You're essential to me, why can't it be enough for your ego?_".

Sam sees tears falling on the table. He's so tired. So tired of all this. If he looses him again, this time there will be no Amelia, no nothing. He won't survive it.

_"Sammy? You're crying?"_

Dean's just appeared in the kitchen. Sam quickly wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and tries to smile.

_"No uh... I'm just tired, don't worry"_

Dean sits in front of him, and takes his big brother look.

_"Talk to me."_

_"Dean... I'm fine I sware. I guess I'm just a little...worried."_

_"About what?"_

Sam sighes.

_"You. I'm worried about you."_

Dean looks puzzled

_"Why?"_

_"Because of... the Blade... Abbadon... "_

Dean takes his hand

_"Listen, it's going to be fine ok? I'll take out Abbadon, Metatron and Crowley and then we're done."_

Sam drinks some coffee, and has a hard time hiding he doesn't think it will be at all that easy.

Dean adds

_"I've just received a text from a contact in Chicago, apparently some Freddy Krueger look alike is clawing people there. I thought maybe... we could have a look. Investigate a little and... I don't know, visiting?"_

Sam chuckles

_"Visiting?"_

Dean smiles

_"Yeah Sammy. A little hunting and a little tourism. That would do us some good until we finally get some intel on Abbadon's location. Plus I'm tired to drive from Shithole, Nevada to Turdville, North Dakota so..."_

This time Sam laughs openly. Dean bends over the table and kisses him.

_"Sammy... I... I'm sorry. For everything that's happened between us. I know it doesn't fix anything but hum... I really mean it. I do."_

Sam gets up, walks around the table and hugs Dean.

_"Just tell me I won't lose you again"_ and he feels Dean's hand gripping his shirt. He answers, with a little shaky voice

_"You won't, I promise"_

And Sam can't help but thinking

You promised me so many times

It's never stopped you from leaving me.

It never stopped destiny from playing with us.

So what will the next cruel joke be?

_"I've already packed your things, you can finish your night in the car, ok babe?"_

Sam smiles and looks at Dean who's merrily walking out the kitchen, juggling with his car keys. Maybe this time it will be ok. Maybe...

_"Right behind you love."_

Maybe not.


	13. Brothers

_"So...two queens?"_

_"No, a king size, please"_

Sam almost choked, what the hell had Dean just said? The cashier smiled, and Sam tried to keep a composed face while inside he felt like hiding under a table like a four year old. This couldn't be happening.

To be honest, Dean had been acting really weird since they'd arrived in Chicago. First, they never hunt in big cities, it's not supposed to be their sector. Another damn stupid rule this one. Sectors. Like some hunters can live in sunny California and hunt creatures in Los Angeles while you, however good you can be, are stuck in the Midwest because that's where you were assigned. Plus it's not like there's an official bureau or anything you could call to ask for being transfered, no, no, it's just an other arbitrary guideline that you're not supposed to question.

And when Sam thinks about it, it's an even more stupid rule when you see the mess Chicago is. How could any competent hunter let a city this big being governed by monster families. Dean said "_Well Sammy, you've seen the Godfather right? I guess hunters can be bought along with the police, the media and everything by uh... Don Vito Shapeshiftone or whatever. Anyway it's not our problem, and definitely not our mess to fix"_. It's surprising, coming from him. In the past he would have been enraged, but now he's all like "_we've got bigger fishes to fry_", and even if he's right, it's still a little strange. Now he's driving to Castiel's secret base, singing along to Black Sabbath's Neon Knights, and seems in a very very good mood. So... strange, yeah.

Plus he never had the info about the Chicago killings from a contact, he had it by reading the news on his phone. He spilled the beans when Sam asked him who was his contact, and why had he called him.

_"Well uh..."_ he said, with a little smirk, _"my contact's name is uh... oh screw it, it's Search the Web"_

_"What?" _shouted Sam.

_"I just saw it on Search the Web, I have an alert on my phone, you should know, you're the one who... installed it." _answered Dean, looking cocky.

_"The STW Alert?"_

_"Yeah that. It sends me loads of emails I never read."_

Sam sighed. "_The idea was helping you research Dean..._ ". Dean has never been very computer savvy. Plus he doesn't understand the concept of key words, and always swears at his laptop when he gets 293 000 000 results for the query "weird stuff".

_"Well I read them last night? Happy?"_

Sam laughed, and put his hand on Dean's which is resting on the gearshift.

_"Yeah happy... But Dean...What about the Chicago hunters? I mean we've always been told..."_

Dean rolled his eyes

_"I know, I know ...if we go hunting on somebody else's field we can be cut from hunter's support. But guess what? I don't care."_

Sam frowned and turned to Dean

_"You're serious?"_

_"Hell yeah. I mean... Even if we did need support, who can we turn to? Bobby's dead, all the people from the Roadhouse are dead, Rufus is dead, Garth is a werewolf... So who? Except maybe Cas we have no one, and Cas doesn't care about hunters' rules."_

Sam began to bite his index finger's nail. It was always sad to remember all the people they'd lost within the years. He was cut by a little slap on his hand

_"Stop doing that Sammy."_

_"God Dean I'm not twelve anymore!"_ he replied, laughing. Dean turned to him smiling and said _"I know babe, I know"_, and Sam suddenly really, really wanted to kiss him for saying that in the middle of the day.

_"Anyway, we've been doing a lot of stuff on our own, and I don't think we need anyone to boss us around, telling us where we should work and everything. Fuck that. We're going to the windy city, and if they don't like it, they can shove it up their asses."_

This time Sam burst out laughing, feeling relieved from the angst he felt when he woke up a few hours before.

The hotel was way fancier than what they were used to, and Dean asking for a king size bed made Sam wonder what the Hell was happening to him. And that's precisely what he asked him when they entered their room. Dean didn't seem to understand, he said somehting like "I thought you'd be happy", and Sam answered that of course he was, but it was such a drastic change in Dean's behavior that... he wasn't complaining but...

_"I'm just trying to... I don't know, make amends?"_ said Dean.

Sam sat on the bed, incredulous.

_"Make amends?"_

Dean took a chair and heavily sat on it.

_"Yeah, I've been a dick, lately... I mean these last years."_

_"Dean..."_ whispered Sam

_"No... Don't tell me I haven't because I know I have. I made you bear... a guilt... that was mine."_

Sam couldn't believe his ears. He remained silent, trying to keep his cool.

_"I... made a bunch of stupid choices... I... Listen..."_ he rose from his chair and sat next to Sam.

_"I'm not a man of many words, and uh... yeah, you know. I think you were right when you said we needed to work on our issues, but to be frank... they're mostly mine. I'm the one who needs to make things better here. You... you've done nothing."_

_"I did my share of..."_

_"No. You've been through enough. I put you, we all put you under way too much pressure. I realized it back in that church... and when you told me about those soulless people you found, you remember?" _Sam nodded._ "Well, then it made me think about you when you were soulless. You were cold, you were a god damn sociopath but you didn't turn vicious or batshit crazy"._

Sam frowned _"Uh yeah I did. I let you being bit by a vampire and I tried to kill Bobby. Amongst other things."_

Dean raised his hands _"Yeah I know that but... you were being...strategic? You didn't turn sadistic, you didn't start torturing kittens and filming snuff movies I mean..."_ he caressed Sam's cheek_, "I mean you're good. You're primarily good."_

Sam put his hand on Dean's.

_"I don't understand why, at some point, I stopped seeing that."_

Sam began to feel his throat getting tighter. Don't start getting all girly, he thought, let him finish.

_"When all this is over... I'll tell you... Things...Things I should have told you years ago... that may... or may not... explain... what I uh...",_ Dean said, closing his eyes. _"But right now I'd just like..."_

_"I forgive you."_

Dean turned to Sam, looking surprised._ "That's not what I was going to..."_

_"I know.",_ replied Sam, getting closer to Dean._ "But I do. It doesn't mean we, and I insist on the we, don't have work to do, it doesn't mean I forget everything that's happened between us but..."_, he put his hands on Dean's shoulder, "_Thank you. It means a lot..."_

_"Don't thank me baby..." _Dean says, tears appearing in his eyes, _"I should have..."_

Sam cut him short by straddling on his lap and hungrily kissing him. He muttered _"stop talking"_ between kisses, and Dean quickly took over.

The first night in Chicago was a hell of a night.

Dean made him scream over and over again, and for once he liked his control freak side. It was like he didn't even think about his own pleasure, he was focused on Sam, driving him nuts and then slowing down until he begged. This was so different from...why was he thinking about those moments now?

So different from when he came back from Hell.

He was so distant then, so... cold. Sam saw it the moment they were alone in his hotel room. He had been burning with anticipation for hours, trying to keep his poker face while his brain was making a very, very long list of things he wanted to do with Dean. The first thing he did was giving him back his amulet, and he saw in Dean's eyes he was moved, but he just said _"thanks"_ and looked at his feet. Sam felt really awkward, so he asked him how Hell was, as if it were a question to ask, and he called himself a idiot while pronouncing it. Dean answered he didn't remember a thing, and Sam replied something stupid like "_Oh good_" and they both stared at each other, not moving an inch for about thirty seconds.

After that clumsy moment, Sam decided to come closer to Dean and he slowly took him in his arms. During the first seconds, Dean didn't react, he didn't embrace Sam. He was stiff, like he was restraining himself, but why? So Sam said"_It's ok love...It's ok we're alone..._" and he felt Dean breathe heavily but he still didn't move. He added "_You're safe now, I'm here... you're home... you came back_" and he felt Dean's arms finally holding him, holding him really tight. Sam whispered "_I missed you so much" _in Dean's ear, and he heard him sighing again before feeling his hands clutching his shirt. Sam gently pulled him towards the bed and sat on it, while Dean stood in front of him, Sam holding his hands, and softly caressing them with his thumbs.

He didn't want to rush him. Even if he didn't remember he had been through something terrible and if he needed time, well, so be it. So Sam looked at him trying to convey his love through his eyes and his touch. And when Dean finally looked at him, his eyes were full of tears. He fell on his knees, between Sam's legs, and started to kiss him desperately, Sam's hair tangling in his fingers. Sam instantly started to cry, and he lifted him on the bed, kissing him everywhere on his face, hair, neck before noticing Dean had stopped moving. He looked at him and asked "_You ok love?_", and Dean answered _"Yeah... I'm just a little... overwhelmed"_, so Sam kissed him and said "_Of course, of course...I'm sorry_" and he snuggled up to him, his hand resting on his heart. He felt Dean's fingers running in his hair, and sighed at the feeling. Then he put his leg on Dean's, and his brother instinctively positionned his right hand on his thigh. It felt like home, even if Dean was still awfully silent.

At that moment, Sam became convinced he did remember something from his time in Hell.

After some time, Dean finally managed to say "_I love you Sammy_" and Sam instantly answered "_I love you too"_, before seeing Dean heading to the bathroom and locking himself inside.

He thought Dean would get better after some time but not really. He began to shun him. To be wary of him. Asking him if he knew the difference between right and wrong, looking at him with fear and...disgust.

It was so different there in Chicago. His eyes, his mouth, his hands, his whole body was filled with love, just like before, just like when they were young and couldn't get enough of each other. That was maybe why he was scared. It hurt so bad the last time he'd lost this, that warmth, that love... he desperately needed it. So as he was straddling on Dean's lap, feeling him sliding inside his body while strongly holding his nape and his waist, tears began to fall on his cheek and he screamed his lover's name with a broken voice before collapsing on the bed.

_"God...You ok baby?"_

_"Yeah... It was just hum... too strong..."_

Dean laughed and said

_"For a minute I thought I broke you"_

Sam smirked and replied

_"Get over yourself Winchester"_

When Sam woke up it was five in the morning and he had just jumped because of a siren. I'm not used to be living in the city anymore he thought, looking at the bedroom's window. Dean was asleep, his head resting on Sam's shoulder, and he felt moved just by looking at his innocent sleeping face. He softly caressed his hair, and Dean made a little sigh, burying his face in his brother's neck.

Sam didn't know why but at that precise moment he thought about when they went separate ways, after Lilith's death.

Maybe it was because he'd just had a wonderful time and needed to ruin it with anxiety again, who knows? Or maybe it was because what had just happened was too good to be true. He wasn't twenty-two anymore, and if there's one thing you learn when you grow old it's to be wary. Even if he had just heard what he had always wanted to hear since a very long time, he couldn't help but thinking this "fuck the rules" attitude wasn't part of Dean's personality, as appealing it could be.

Dean had always liked to torture himself with his moral code. And he couldn't live without it. Whenever he broke a rule, he had to make up a new one. Whenever he decided not to listen to someone, he had to forge another alliance. He was definitely not a loner, and certainly not an outlaw. Sam remembered when he was addicted to Ruby's blood, when he had this tremendous, intoxicating power. He felt above the rules, and most of all he felt right, he was convinced he couldn't be wrong.

Was Dean feeling omnipotent too? Was it the reason why they were here? Why he chose that hotel, that room, that bed?

Why he apologized?

Sam looks at him again and feels teary eyed. No. It couldn't be only the Blade speaking. The Blade made him speak like the merciless stranger he was after Lilith's death, the one who couldn't trust him anymore, the one who couldn't... love him...anymore. Only work with him. And sometimes have sex. Out of... anger or tension or whatever... and they were not supposed to discuss it after it was go straight to your bed and act like nothing happened.

After Lilith's death, Dean wouldn't even let Sam touch him. A simple pat on the shoulder was too much, and in the meantime he wouldn't even let him apologize, or try to explain himself.

Dean said he was trying to forgive him, but anyone who would be even slightly empathic would have felt he was a ball of resentment and anger. When Bobby, who was possessed by Meg at the time, told Sam he could never be forgiven for starting Armageddon, and that if they managed to stop it, he never wanted to see him again, Dean didn't react. Bobby was his family as much as Dean's and his brother didn't say anything to defend him. So Sam thought he knew what it meant.

It meant when the Apocalypse is interrupted, you can forget about me. In the end, Sam decided to leave even before that, because the situation was unbearably painful. Well, in the beginning he thought it would provoke some reaction from Dean, that he would try to hold him back, but nothing happened. He just said something like "_yeah I agree, you should leave_", with a blank face. No trace of emotion, nothing, and Sam thought what he did destroyed Dean. What else could it be? What else could have erased everything they had said before, felt before?

He had cheated, he had lied, he had betrayed and now everything he used to have was torn to pieces.

After that he learnt Dean had teamed up with Castiel and that, that was a real punch in the gut.

Because if Castiel hadn't opened the door of Bobby's panic room, Sam would never had been able to join Ruby and take some more of her blood. Dean used to say Cas had been tricked by his bosses, and then Sam wanted to yell "_I was tricked too!_", but aparently it wasn't the same. "_He was just following orders Sam!_", yeah right. Like that was so different. Following your guts and being wrong deserved exile, but following orders was forgivable. It made Sam want to be mean and say that it was the Nazis' defense during the Nuremberg trials but it would have been a little over the top. Or wouldn't it? If you added the time he broke his Wall, and the Leviathans episode well... Cas had definitely a lot on his plate but for an unknown reason, everything he had ever done was utterly excusable.

Anyway after some time, Dean called him and told him he had changed his mind, that he needed him. Not because he missed him though, but because he needed the "second best hunter in the planet". He did apologize for having been to harsh on him, for blaming him to much but as he said, it didn't change the fact that he had betrayed him. He added it made him think about what they had been doing in the past and consider that maybe, for the time being, they could just be hunters. Collegues.

_"We can work together, but as for being brothers again Sam...it's gonna take time."_

"Brothers". Code name for lovers.

Just like Family, or Job. It has always been their way of saying "_I love you_" in public. For example, before Dean died, he told Sam "_don't forget what I taught you_". Code. Because Ruby, well Lilith, was in the room. To any stranger it meant "_don't forget what you were taught about hunting_", but truly it meant "_don't forget how much I love you, don't forget you're a good person in spite of everything you were told_".

"_We're family_". Code. We're a couple.

"_I just want my brother back_". Code. I just want my lover back.

"_It's my job_". Code. It's my life.

That's why Sam still has difficulties to understand these words in their litteral meaning. Because to him, Dean saying "_He's my brother, we're family, taking care of him is my job_" has always meant so much more than what it seems to.

That's why he hates hearing that about anyone else, even if he knows it doesn't mean the same thing then.

That's how he chose to get back at Dean for forcing him to survive, for tricking him into accepting Gadriel. He chose exactly the same words that Dean used before, just to see how he would react to that. That was violent and cold, but in the end... In the end it was worth it.

Because he does have his brother back, right here, driving his beloved Impala and butchering Ozzy Osborne's songs. There's a ray of light coming through the windshield, and it makes Dean look like an angel.

Yes he_ is_ cheesy, he's always been.

He's the kind to believe in soulmates and in eternal love. The kind to hope, to see a way out. The kind to dare.

_"Stop the car."_

_"What?"_

_"Stop the car, now."_

_"Why?"_

_"I wanna eat you."_

The kind to forgive.


	14. Fireworks

_What?"_ says Dean, laughing. Sam's just asked him, very seriously, to stop the car. And he added even more seriously that he wanted to "eat him".

_"You're serious?"_ he asks, not believing his ears, and he turns to Sam who's wearing his, oh damn it... Dean doesn't feel like joking and calling it his "sex face" anymore. Sam looks... he doesn't know what could qualify, hot? Lustful? Rabid? Maybe all that, maybe... And it makes him look so... grown up. So tall and strong. Dean wonders why he's always surprised by Sam's height and strength, it's been years since the time he was a slender and slightly awkward young man.

Sam smiles and whispers_ "Yes. Very. There's a field and a little grove right there, look."_

Dean winks and turns on a narrow dirt track, while he feels Sam's eyes undressing him. He has lots of punchlines running through his mind like "_what's gotten into you?_", to say with a smirk and a sarcastic tone, but he doesn't feel like it. He never says it explicitly, but if there's one thing that's always made him take off, it's Sam taking the wheel. Plus he seems so...in control. Usually Sam is more the type to try to touch him while he's driving, or to attack him by surprise when he's just got out of the car. How long has he been thinking about this?

He's just found a place to park the car, and though they chose this place completely by chance, the scenery is unexpectedly beautiful. They're in a little glade, surrounded by willow trees, and the night is really, really silent, apart from the cricket song resounding all around. Sam has asked him to go out and to wait for him at the back of the car, and it's been something like two minutes already, what has he been doing?

He finally emerges from the car, half naked, with a cigarette in his mouth and a bottle of bourbon in his hand. Dean tilts his head and says

_"What are you doing?"_

Sam smirks

"_I'm celebrating."_

"_You don't even smoke baby."_ replies Dean, trying to take Sam's cigarette away, but Sam shoves his arm, and takes a last puff before handing it to Dean. _"I've been in college Dean, I did smoke, and not only tobacco"_. Dean laughs, and says oh god Sammy, I knew you were a hippie, did you have a Che Guevara poster in your room? And Sam punches him lightly on the shoulder before saying "_Jerk. Get out of the trunk lid I need to take something_". Dean has already noticed the very recognizable bottle in his back pocket so what does he need? He opens the trunk, finds his bag and gets out of it a plastic bag filled with carton boxes. He hands it to Dean.

_"Look, you recognize it?"_

Dean opens the bag and it's... fireworks. He can't help but grinning and Sam says

_"You remember?"_

He takes out the boxes and aligns them on the lid. Dean answers

_"Of course I remember... The fourth of July 1996... It's one of my favorite memories."_

Sam adds

_"One of mine too."_

Dean frowns

_"I know what you're going to say"_, cuts Sam, while installing the rockets, _"and hum, I know it seems stupid after four years but... back then..."_

Dean kneels close to Sam and puts his hand on his shoulder.

_"I called you a monster. I... I told you things I should never have said. Sammy I don't blame you for... prefering to remember the times you spent alone with your dog uh..."_

_"Bones", _says, sitting in the grass.

_"Yes, Bones. I didn't understand then. I thought... I thought you had changed."_

Sam has grabbed a carton and is unpacking a rocket. He mumbles, _"changed?"_.

Dean takes his hand _"Yes, and I was wrong. I was the one who'd changed"._ Sam raises his face, and Dean sees his eyes glistening in the glare of the headlights. "_But you know what? If there's one thing I remind from our time up there it's what Ash said about people who shared the same heaven, you remember?"_

Sam says in a smile_ "Soulmates", _and Dean kisses him lightly before getting up and adding_ "Would my soulmate help me finish installing those rockets?", _and Sam laughs before picking up the remaining boxes.

_"Ahoy Captain." _he replies, combing his bangs out of his face, and it makes Dean want to drop the cartons and kiss him again. They quickly finish to set all the rockets, and Sam begins to light every single one. Dean is staring at him, leaned on the Impala's hood and he thinks about the boy he was at thirteen, when he was the one to buy some fireworks to give the kid a proper fourth of july. He still looks the same in many ways. Same smile, same eyes, same expression when he focuses on something. He feels his heart ache a little, but it's a good pain. It feels nostalgic but also hopeful. He's cut in his thoughts when Sam runs to him shouting

_"Fire in the hole!"_

And Dean begins to laugh and laugh at how ridiculously adorable he is. Soon there are sparks everywhere, and Sam is dragging him under them, yelling "_come on, come on!"_, and he looks so happy right now that Dean follows him, even if he knows this looks like a terrible rom com scene. But they're alone, aren't they? There's no one to look, there's no one to judge and even if there was... Fuck them. He's tired of being ashamed. He thinks, look at him, look at how beautiful he is, how loving. He can't believe he's been looking for years for something that was right under his nose.

That's always been right in front of me, he understands. It wasn't in an idealized suburban life, and it wasn't in the "purity" of Purgatory, it was with him. And he's always known it, even then, when he was so resentful, when he hated him so much sometimes. His heaven has always been lighting fireworks with Sam. And his brother doesn't owe him anything because everything Dean's ever done for him, he deserved. And now, as he watch his lover, yes, say it god damn it, surrounded by sparks and light, he feels grateful. Immensely grateful. Because he's here.

Sam remained with him, despite everything he's said and done. He's never stopped being by his side, he's never stopped loving him, and he...he...

He's always kept his promises.

Dean starts to laugh openly, he feels that familiar joy, so he runs to his brother and drags him to the car. Sam looks at him with bold interest and Dean says

_"I thought you wanted to eat me?"_

And Sam says

_"Oh I do",_ while slipping his hands in Dean's back pockets, and staring at him right in the eye. They keep on looking at each other for a few seconds and Dean details Sam's face, while gently rubbing his back.

_"You didn't ask me what we were celebrating though."_ says Sam after a moment

_"That's right I didn't"_, replies Dean, while kissing him chin._ "What were we celebrating?"_

_"Us." _answers a smiling Sam

Dean laughs and is tempted to say "_God Sammy, can you be girlier? I feel like that red haired chick in this Ryan Gosling's movie_", but he doesn't say anything. He just smiles back and says

_"I love you"_

And Sam starts to kiss him hungrily, while taking his shirt off, and quickly, Dean finds himself sit on the Impala's trunk lid. He tells Sam _"Oh, I remember that too... but the roles were reversed"_. Sam pushes him back until he's lied down on the lid and starts to take off his belt. "_Oh and I remember it very well love, very well_".

If Dean was a little cold a few minutes ago, now he's burning hot. It's unexpectedly arousing to see Sam so much in control of himself, but he still wants to try something, while Sam takes his pants off along with his boxers. He sits and grabs Sam's belt, pulling him closer and whispers in his ears "_I want you to fuck me on the Impala's trunk. Yeah I have a filthy mind_". Sam pushes him back on the lid and replies, his mouth an inch from Dean's "_So do I_".

That's going to be very hard not to explode.

A few hours later, Sam is sleeping on the backseat curled up in an old blanket and Dean is outside smoking the remaining cigarettes Sam has bought. Malboro menthol. Dear lord. But it's still good even if he wouldn't admit it in front of Sam. And it doesn't hurt his throat like non filter ones.

_"What would Daddy say if he knew you're buggering little Sammy?"_

He's never going to leave him alone, is he?

Dean thinks that if Alastair was here for real he would tell him "_I don't have any lessons to be taught by someone like John Winchester_". Yeah. Because that's another thing he never told Sam, one to add to the pile. Before Sam killed him with his... mojo, Alastair said John endured a hundred years of torture and that he had always refused to "pick his blade". But that couldn't be true. Alastair was just messing with him, and Dean knew it. Because in fourty years, Dean never got any kind of close to the doors of Hell, he never knew where they actually were. So, if by any chance they had been opened, he couldn't have escaped. But John could. John was extremely close to the doors, close enough to get out along with very powerful demons like the Seven Sins. And there could be only one reason for that.

He was trusted down there.

He was trusted enough to be allowed to approach the doors, and that said a lot about what he had done and said. If Alastair was right about something, it was about John being obsessively goal oriented. His goal was to kill Azazel, so he certainly thought the best way to get out of the Pit was to trick everyone into thinking he was on their side. Even if it meant torturing souls and God knows what else. Alastair was certainly very disappointed when he saw that John torturing an innocent wasn't what it took to open the first sceal, because John was far from being a righteous man. Far from being a good man.

On the contrary, he was cold, he was a skilled strategist, and he was ready to sacrifice anything so in the end he'd finally have his revenge on Azazel. After that he disappeared without a word of apology for the mess he had created, without a word of regret.

So maybe that Dean was turned into a monster down there, but he resisted, hell yeah he did.

But that too he never felt like telling Sam. It would have obliged him to tell him the truth about his time in Hell, and it would have finally ruined the image he had of John, which had always been far from brilliant.

Plus it was not like he had nobody to talk to. He had Cas. Cas has always known. Everything. About everything. And he agreed to keep the secret about Hell, and basically all of Dean's secrets since they've known each other. That's certainly why Sam don't really like him. Well, because of that and all the things Cas has done. But Cas can relate.

He can relate to what it's like to be ordered around by a father you barely know. To feel you have absolutely no individual value except when you're a good tool. To have done terrible things because you were following orders hoping for gratitude or recognition.

He said once to Cas he wasn't just a hammer. Well he was kind of talking to himself as well.

Sam would say he understands him too, but it's not really possible, he's never been in his shoes. Sam was loved as a child. By him. It gave him the feeling every kid should have, the feeling he deserved to be loved, the feeling he was somebody. Dean had that until he was four and then... then he was just a hammer. A sword. And now he had that fucking mark. He doesn't complain about it though. If it can give him the power to destroy all those demons and create a safe place for Sam and him, then he's ready to pay the price. He won't allow anyone to play with them anymore, this time is over.

No one is jumping in a Pit, whatever pit it is.

If he had had that kind of weapon four years ago, he would have butchered Michael and Lucifer with one hand, and he would have saved Sam's life. He wouldn't have watched him jump in this hole, convinced that way he was redeeming himself from his treason with Ruby. This was suicide. And so were the trials.

He's just realized it. Suicide. He's never thought about the actual meaning of this. It was terrible enough to understand Sam was ready to offer his life for closing the Doors of Hell because he thought he didn't deserve to live after what he was supposed to have done to Dean. But the truth was, if there hadn't been the trials or the Pit, maybe he would just have crashed his car in a tree. Or blow his head off.

They've died several times, so death has never seemed as permanent as it is for other people but still. Sam tried to kill himself twice. Because of him.

Dean feels his throat getting so tight he has trouble breathing, and he falls sit on the ground. That's why he was so worried the other day when Dean went outside for a walk, that's why he instantly thought about suicide when it's clearly not part of Dean's personality. He just knew... he just knew the effect words can have on people because he experienced it first hand.

He spent so many years swimming in self loathing that he didn't even see what he pushed him to do. Instead, he kept on dwelling on the past like an old man.

He can blame Alastair for a lot of things, but this, this abuse was his.

Dean feels tears running on his cheeks and suddenly he's overwhelmed by sobs he tries to silence by covering his mouth with his hand. But it's no use. The pain is too strong, the guilt is too strong. Because he's still here, in this car, still loving him in spite of all these times he hurt him by not trusting him. All these times he questioned their relationship, calling it sick and then crawling to his bed, using him and then shunning him. Telling him he loved him and then turning to other people. God!

He's poison.

He's...

_"Dean? Dean my god what's happening?"_

Sam. With his worried sleepy face, carrying a blanket.

_"Answer me, you're scaring me!"_

Dean grabs Sam's shirt and kisses him, but Sam breaks the kiss before putting him back on his feet. He helps him sit on the Impala's trunk, and Dean tries to catch his breath, while Sam gently pulls his head towards his chest and smoothes his hair.

_"I'm sorry Sammy... I'm so sorry..."_

There's nothing else to say.

_"It's ok love...it's ok..."_

Dean pushes him away a little and replies

_"No it's not... No it's not... I... I can't be... forgiven...I don't deserve..."_

Sam pulls him back to him and says

"_Stop it. Dean, I'm serious, stop it. Listen. You need to stop that. Stop hating yourself. You told me I was good earlier so guess what? So are you."_

_"I'm not"_ mumbles Dean against Sam's shirt,_ "Baby I'm not"_

Sam catches his chin and makes him look at him

_"That's what hurts us both. What you're doing right now is hurting us both."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Dean, if you think you're a bad person, then you're gonna do bad things, it's as simple as that. It's just like when you're driving and you have to avoid something like...another car. If you focus on your trajectory then you'll avoid the car, but if you look at it..."_

_"You're gonna crash on it" s_ays Dean, slowly understanding what Sam means.

Sam kisses his forehead.

_"Exactly. So stop beating yourself up all right? Did you hurt me? I'm not gonna lie. Yes. Yes you did. And I know I hurt you to. Don't say no, don't go from an extreme to another. We both made mistakes. But we can't keep on living in the past, we both need to move on, we both need to focus on the future"._

Dean sighes.

"_The future..."_

"_Yes Dean, the future",_ Sam kisses his hand, _"I want to be with you in the future. I want us to be together. And I don't care if it means we're gonna have to live in that car for the next ten years. The only thing I see is that one day, we'll retire together."_

He's smiling and Dean feels some other tears falling.

_"You really believe that?"_

_"I do. We have a way out. You're my way out. You've always been."_

Dean falls back on the ground, and Sam sits close to him, putting his head on his shoulder.

_"I'm... your way out?"_

_"Yes of course you are."_

_"God..."_

Dean thinks about Lisa, and how Sam made him promise before jumping in the Pit he would have an "apple-pie" life with her, watching football games and being the average suburban dad. He thought it was what he yearned for until... until he felt himself being eaten alive by boredom and anger. He didn't fit. He couldn't fit. And as much as he tried he didn't love her. He couldn't love her though she was so... supposedly perfect for him. He even hated her sometimes, and that feeling scared him so much he had to drink to make it disappear. He hated her for not filling the void he had inside, for not making life easier and enjoyable, for being such a conformist, for being domestic, for having ridiculous kinks in bed like furry handcuffs and... He hated her sometimes because... she wasn't Sam.

She wasn't Sam.

She wasn't the one he wanted to live with. He didn't laugh with her, they didn't share anything, any private jokes or movie references. He felt more at home in his old car with a soulless Sam than with Lisa. Sam had always been his home.

_"You're mine too."_

Sam turns to him, surprised.

_"Yes, you are... I know I've bee saying stupid things like... I don't see a way out or...you know. But truly... I want the same thing as you."_

He breathes deeply.

_"Ok baby. No more self loathing, no more self pity. My..._" he smiles at Sam, "_from now on my trajectory is you and me together, safe, and happy._"

He feels Sam's arm embracing him.

_"I like that"_, he says.

_"And I will do everything I can to make it happen, I promise". _And by everything, he means everything. He has enough power now. Nobody's going to play with him this time. He's not a tool anymore. He's not a hammer, not a sword, and certainly not a Blade. But he's going to use it. He's going to use this Blade, and when he's done, they will both be able to live together as they intend to.

_"Hey look, the sky's clear"_

Sam has wrapped them both in the blanket and Dean turns his head towards the sky. They're in the middle of nowhere, so the stars are shining so bright he can even see the Milky Way. They've done that a thousand time, watching the stars in silence, and it's always soothing. He feels much better now. Almost confident.

After a few minutes, Sam has fallen asleep on Dean's shoulder, and Dean lies him on his lap, caressing his hair. He whispers in the night

_" I love you Sammy."_

This is getting a little cold and they should get inside the car before they both get sick. Plus Cas is waiting for them, and they should hit the road.

Sam hugs him closer and sighes like a sleeping child.

Cas can wait.


	15. Lost

**I'm going to kill him.**

Castiel had just asked Dean to torture an angel and Sam heard himself very distinctly thinking that if he had an angel blade in his pocket he would just... Damn it. Just like old times, uh? When Castiel was following the orders of his pal Uriel and they had asked Dean to torture Alastair. Castiel pretended to be concerned by Dean's mental state a few days ago and now he was doing that to him? This guy had really no idea of what friendship actually was. None.

Damn him.

Sam would have liked to stay a little bit longer in the grove when they had lighted the fireworks. He had bought them in Chicago while Dean was sleeping, and he really didn't regret it. He woke up at dawn, his head on Dean's lap, and when he turned to him, his brother kissed him good morning and it felt crazy good.

_"What time is it?"_ he said, still sleepy.

_"It's uh... six and a half... you're not too sore?"_

_"Dean, my god..._" answered Sam, chuckling, _"you're the one you should be"_

Dean grinned

_"I was talking about the cold, idiot. You slept on the ground."_

Sam must have looked embarrassed because Dean burst out laughing and said

_"Are you blushing?"_

And Sam replied, maybe a little too quick

_"No i'm not!" _making Dean laugh even more. Sam kissed him to make him stop, mumbling "_you meanie_" in his mouth, and he lied back on Dean's lap.

_"No, no, no baby, get up, we're supposed to be at Cas's...uh 2 hours ago, I think."_

Sam got up.

_"Wow seriously?"_

Dean looked completely relaxed and carefree, and that was a real surprise. He wasn't the kind to be late, normally.

_"Yeah well... You put on such a show yesterday, I didn't feel like interrupting you"_ replied Dean, while getting up.

_"I'm sorry"_ said Sam, as a reflex.

Dean laughed

_"Why are you apologizing?",_ he ruffled his hair. _"Last night was the best time I had in years. So yeah, I didn't feel like interrupting it."_

Sam grabbed his belt and pulled him closer

_"I must say, it wasn't that bad", _and he kissed Dean in the neck, and he let him do it, when the sun was definitely up and that was...that was...

_"Sammy..."_ said Dean, with a playful tone _"we're already something like 6 hours late..."_ and Sam replied, chanting "_I don't caaaare..."_ while slipping his hands under Dean's shirt. _"And apparently you don't either"_, he added, smiling. Dean grabbed his hands and said, faking a serious look _"This is torture Sammy, you know it's wrong"_. And Sam added, with the same expression, _"Dean, I have no choice, you have to see the bigger picture here."_ Dean asked, a little confused

_"What bigger picture?"_

And Sam replied _"Well look right there!"_, pulling Dean's hand towards him.

_"Bigger... Don't flatter yourself."_ and he slapped Sam's butt before heading back to the car.

_"Dean! Come on!"_ pleaded Sam.

_"Get inside!"_ shouted Dean. _"I need to eat something else that your..."_

_"Dean!"_ cut Sam, faking an outraged tone. And then with a more serious one _"I have cereal bars in the tidy if you're hungry"_.

_"That's food for horses",_ said Dean.

_"I know"_ replied Sam, grinning while seating next to him. Dean rolled his eyes.

_"How old are you?"_

And Sam just kissed him saying _"I'm happy that's all"_.

And they left.

They had breakfast in a little diner on the road, because Dean needed his coffee and a slice of pie, and they arrived at Cas's base something like 8 hours later than they should have initially. Dean blamed it on a flat tire, saying they were in the middle of nowhere and his jack was broken with Sam covering his mouth not to laugh.

So the day had started pretty well before Cas ruined it.

But thank god or whoever Sam managed to talk Dean out of torturing that poor bastard sitting in front of them, pretending to be some hot shot Metatron sidekick when he obviously wasn't.

_"Thanks."_ said Dean, later in the hallway, with distraught half smile. There were angels everywhere so they couldn't get too close, but Dean managed to whisper_ "I'm sorry", _and a few steps later_, "I really need a drink"._ On the parking lot, Dean sat on the Impala's hood with a bottle of Jack in his hand and started to drink a little too fast. Sam came closer to him and took the bottle away.

_"What happened there?_"

Dean looked at the bottle, but Sam held it out of his reach.

_"Sam come on... I know you don't like that but... I really, really need a drink"._

Sam reluctantly handed him the bottle, and Dean took one more sip.

_"I don't know what happened I'm uh... sorry. I guess I lack sleep with all the driving and stuff."_

Sam fought hard not to roll his eyes.

_"Dean, please..."_

He looked at Sam right in the eye and suddenly there was something hard in his stare

_"I'm fine Sam. I'm just tired ok?"_

Sam began to answer when he was interrupted by an angel waving at them from the base's door. Someone had killed the man they had just interrogated. At that moment, Sam thought well here we go again. Angelic civil war. And now Castiel was all puppy eyes and everything, saying he had no idea there could be a mole in his group. Sometimes, Sam wonders how you can be so old, and at the same time such a dork. It's basic warfare. People betray people. People buy people. That's just the way it works and if you don't know that then, you're just leading your group, whatever group it is, to catastrophy. Or you can try to be the new God, revive an old specie of demons and get yourself, along with your so called best friend, killed.

Dicks with wings. No doubt.

Plus, when Castiel asked Sam if he had a moment to talk, Sam really thought he would apologize for asking Dean to torture someone, or at least show a little concern for his health. But no, no, he wanted to know about Gadriel. Asking questions about his personality. Sam guessed he wanted to see if an alliance was possible and it made him angry. That guy's selfishness was just... He tries to get along with him, he tries. For Dean's sake. Because he's Dean's friend. And even if it pains him to see Dean trust Castiel so much in spite of everything he's done, Sam doesn't want to separate them. But sometimes it's extremely hard not to tell him to go fuck himself and his morals.

After all that, they had a call from Crowley, about the location of the first Blade, and he had to hide it in a dead body, of course. On the way to Crowley's hotel, Dean seemed a little better, when Sam was anxious about him being reunited with the weapon again. He remembered how terrifying he was when he killed Magnus, how he seemed almost... possessed. Would it be possible for the Blade to have a soul of its own? It was like Dean couldn't hear his voice, like he was completely focused on killing. And this first kill definitely changed him, even if it's hard to admit. He killed humans without any second thoughts. He had that horrible expression when he killed that vampire...

It made Sam think about his time with Ruby. Because Dean acted like an addict. When Sam was the one to grab the Blade - covered with stinking goo- Dean tried hard no to seem in need, but Sam perfectly saw how he looked like, and quickly hid the Blade in a piece of cloth. He looked like himself whenever he saw blood. When they arrived at Crowley's, Dean tricked him and sent him to the basement so he could face Abaddon alone. Because it was a trap, of course it was. And Dean went all... it's hard to say... demonic? Resisting Abaddon's powers and most of all stabbing her body like fucking Dexter when she was already dead.

Sam shouted at him, told him to stop and when he did, his face and hands were covered in blood, and he let go of the Blade.

He looked lost, in shock, and Sam ran to him and fell on his knees right beside his brother.

_"What happened? Tell me what happened."_ he said, his voice trembling a little.

Dean had a blank expression and he only managed to whisper

_"I... I don't know."_

Sam got up and helped him get on his feet. "Go to the bathroom I'm right behind you", he told him, before picking up the blade. Crowley was trapped on a chair and they could deal with him later.  
In the bathroom, Dean was staring at himself in the mirror, and hadn't start to wash himself. He was just gripping the edge of the basin, detailing his face with a confused expression, as if he didn't recognize what he was looking at.

_"Dean..."_ whispered Sam, _"Dean you hear me?"_

Dean remained still for a few more seconds and then turned to Sam, with the same vacant face and said "Yeah... I do", and then came back to staring at his reflection.

Sam grabbed a towel and got it wet. He slowly walked towards Dean and sighed "let's get you cleaned up", before starting to gently rub his face to wipe off the blood. Dean closed his eyes and let him, but suddenly grabbed his wrist with a bloody hand.

_"Where's the Blade?"_

Sam put his hand on Dean's and started to pet it. _"In the living room Dean, it's fine"_. Dean gave him a distressed look, _"What about Crowley?"_, and Sam said with the same soothing voice "_He's trapped on his chair Dean, he can't move. Everything's ok now."._

Dean looked at his hand, gripping Sam's wrist with way too much strength and he release it, mumbling "_Sorry.._.". Sam took both his hand and put them under the faucet, before turning it on.

_"It's not to hot?"_

Dean didn't answer and watched the blood going down the drain with the water. Sam took some soap and began to wash Dean's hands, along with his own wrist.

_"Do you hear that?"_ mumbled Dean.

_"No, what?"_

_"That... buzz..."_ he said, looking around for the source of the sound. "_It's so... loud..."_

_"I don't hear anything love, maybe it's just the neons."_ replied Sam, getting more and more worried. Dean was now more or less clean, and he asked Sam to leave him alone for a minute. Sam hesitantly left and came back to a grumbling Crowley, complaining about his injury. Sam wiped the Blade off Abaddon's blood and tried to avoid looking at the poor woman's body Abaddon had possessed. She didn't deserved that. No one did.

Then he turned to Crowley and his first move was wanting to stab him with Ruby's blade. But it wasn't a clever thing to do. Heaven was in utter anarchy, if Hell could avoid to be into it as well, it could only be a good thing, even if it meant reinstalling Crowley on his throne. But you can't fight on two fronts at the same time. So he handed him the knife so he could take off the Demon's Trap bullet out of his shoulder.

A moment later, Dean got out of the bathroom, looking almost normal. His face was still a little blank but he didn't look confused anymore and Sam felt a little relieved. It didn't last though, because he learnt that Dean knew about the trap and purposedly asked him to go downstairs. So of course, when they finally got together in the car, Sam asked his brother why he had done such a dangerous thing. And Dean answered that he had to do it alone, that demons had always used them as a liability and that if Sam had been with him in the room, everything could have been compromised.

Sam's just shared with Dean his concern about the effects the Blade may have on him, and have asked him to store it in a remote place, to save it for when he really needs it, until they know more about it.

And Dean just answered.

_"No"_

A definitive no. His eyes locked on the road, avoiding Sam's, just like when he's angry. Though he doesn't seem angry he's just terribly calm and certain. He's just said that's what the Blade brought to him, calm, and this is scarier than any of his anger outburst. Sam doesn't know how to react because he's never seen him like this. Dean is normally a man of doubts.

They drive like this, in silence, for almost two hours and Sam tries to focus on the sound of the rain on the Impala's body to calm down. Rain is a white noise and white noises are soothing. He's known that since he was a kid, it helped him to ignore John's sermons, and basically his constant anger. He turns towards his window and put his chin on his knee. He knows he looks childish like this but he's such a mess inside he doesn't care. Dean basically told him they were not a team anymore, and that, that... he doesn't know how to handle. He's been anxious for days. Thinking everything was too good to be true, that soon, something terrible would happen just like everytime he felt at home.

It's happening, is it? He's going to lose everything again.

Dean must have noticed because he finally begins to talk.

_"Listen babe. I'm tired of those people using one of us to get to the other. I'm just thinking about us here, you know? About the trajectory."_

Sam sits normally and turns to Dean

_"I don't get it." _he says, with a little sulky pout

_"Look, that Blade means no more deal, no more Pit, no more spell no more..." _Dean sighes and looks at Sam, with finally some tenderness in his eyes._ "What if she had hurt you? What if she had slammed you into a wall or worse?_

Sam frowns

_"She could have hurt you too."_

Dean denies

_"No babe. I knew she couldn't. I can't really explain it but... I knew I could beat her." _He takes a breath and adds_ "With this weapon, I feel like we're finally safe you know"_

_"I'm afraid it won't be that simple, Dean... You didn't see how you... looked back there... I mean you... kept on...stabbing her and she was..." _Sam has trouble finishing his sentence.

_"That wasn't the Blade Sammy."_ replies Dean, his eyes back on the road.

_"What?" _says Sam, a little to loud.

_"That wasn't the Blade, that was me. I know you don't... see me that way but..." _Sam cuts him_ "Because you're not like that.", _and Dean looks lost again.

_"Baby... I spent fourty years in a Pit..."_ whispers Dean with a sad voice. Sam puts his hand on his shoulder and says

_"I know what it's like. I burnt for... I don't even know..." _and Dean cuts him, saying, "_I didn't burn._" Sam sees his fist clenched on the wheel, he almost answers that he knows, but something in Dean's eyes urges him not to talk.

_"I didn't told you everything. I... I will. Soon. But the time I spent there... it... changed me. No... it awakened...things I had inside. Violence. And this, what I did with Abaddon, this was mine."_

Sam mutters_ "Do you want to talk about it?" _but Dean shakes his head before adding "_Not now..._". Sam sighes and they remain silent for a few minutes. But he has to know more.

_"Maybe. Dean, ok, maybe you have this in you but... Do you want it out again?" _he asks

_"I can control it." _answers Dean with a harsh voice_. _Sam goes on_, "That's what you think..." _and Dean cuts him, yelling

_"Sam! I can control it. Trust me, I know."_

Time for retreat.

_"All right. All right..."_

_"Sorry baby I didn't mean to shout."_ says Dean, a little confused.

_"I know..." _replies Sam. Dean is obviously in no condition to talk, and Sam feels really tired now. So he turns back to his window, and starts listening to the rain again. Dean has just turned on the radio, and it's perfect, because there is a tear running on Sam's nose.

He thinks that by now, he should know that there's no such thing as peace of mind in his life. Or safety.

He hears the first lyrics of Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day, and Dean complains, calling the singer a short, whiney douchebag. Sam doesn't like it so much either, but when he hears

_Here comes the rain again_  
_Falling from the stars_  
_Drenched in my pain again_  
_Becoming who we are_

He feels like bitterly laughing at the coincidence. He'd really like to fall asleep right now, and to wake up the day when there are no more monsters, no more Blade, and no more death in his life. Yes, if he could just go into a coma it would be...

Dean has just put a blanket on him. Sam doesn't move.

_"Well look who's sleeping like a gigantic kid"._

He parks the car on the side of the road, and Sam decides to keep on pretending. Dean covers him with the blanket and chuckles _"Oh Sammy you've never been a very reliable co-pilot"_. He gets back on the road, and after a few minutes he says

_"I'm never loosing you again."_

He puts his hand on Sam's back. And repeats

_"I'm never loosing him again."_

Sam bites his lip and closes his eyes.

_Summer has come and passed_  
_The innocent can never last_

Wake me up when everyting ends.


	16. Friend

When they came back frome Cas's secret base, Sam was so tired he headed right to his room and fell asleep with his clothes on. To be completely honest he was also still upset by their conversation and needed some time alone. Dean on the other hand, wasn't the littlest bit tired, and he went straight to the kitchen, asking Sam if he wanted a sandwich or something. Sam heard him but he was already drifting off to sleep, his hand clenched around his gun.

He didn't feel safe though he was in the bunker. It was the first time since they had moved in that he felt the need to sleep with his weapon in hand. He had a nightmare about the day Dean killed Dick Roman and disappeared. It was with another weapon made of bone, and it cost him his life. It was another weapon provided by Crowley and it sent him to Purgatory where he killed hundred of creatures before being able to come back.

Sam had never found the strength to look for him then. He still remembers the look on Dean's face when he realized Sam hadn't tried anything, and his words...

_"We always told each other not to look for each other. That's smart. Good for you. Of course, we always ignored that because of our deep, abiding love for each another, but not this time, right, Sammy?"_

Sam didn't know what to answer to that. He didn't want to say "_you're the one who stopped loving me years ago_", because it would have sounded terrible even if it was true. Since Ruby, there relationship had turned into something even more dysfunctional, if it was possible. They never really stopped fucking, and this was the proper word to use, because it was only hunger, only desire, followed by heavy silence and guilt, guilt, guilt. Especially when Bobby died and they didn't figure he was still around until a few days after his death.

Dean was so devastated the night after Bobby's passing he spent hours in Sam's arms, weeping without making a single sound. He desperately needed Sam and it was the first time he acted like that in the last three years. They were both extremely sad and it felt comforting to have Dean back, to have themselves back. But when Dean realized Bobby was still there, it made a mess out of him. Because Bobby had certainly witnessed some of the things they had done and Dean told Sam it made him sick to think Bobby could have seen them. Sam replied Bobby was an intelligent man and had certainly guessed years ago.

_"Dean... How many times did Bobby tell us things like... I don't care what you two do, just stay safe or I've always told your father you needed to see other people...That kind of things?"_

Dean didn't want to believe it.

_"No Sam, no. It couldn't be about... that. Not Bobby he would have never..."_

_"What? Admitted it? I don't know if he did but Dean... You've never noticed he always let us sleep in the same room, just like when we were kids?"_

_"Yeah..."_

_"To me he just... loves us... the way we are."_ said Sam with a sad half smile. And Dean didn't reply.

After that he refused to be touched by Sam and never got close to him again. It never kept him from taking care of Sam like the good big brother he had always been, but they were not lovers anymore. It was over. It had taken a long time to finish but here they were. Sam couldn't stop himself from thinking Dean maybe considered that "who they were" brought some kind of punishment upon them, upon their friends. And that was maybe what hurt the most.

So when Dean disappeared, Sam was too broken to try to find him.

But when he said those words in the old cabin where they met after a year of separation, "_our deep, abiding love for each other_", Sam felt a familiar ache in his chest. Dean slammed the door and went outside, when Sam was still trying to decide if it was sarcasm or not. After a few minutes, he decided to go out too and ask him.

_"What did you mean?"_

Dean was standing a few feet away, turning his back on Sam. He didn't answer.

_"When you talked about our love, were you... serious?"_

Dean sighed but didn't move.

_"You used to be the one to tell me that this was who we were."_ he finally said.

Sam sat on an old stool.

_"So you were being sarcastic."_

Dean turned to him, teary eyed, his mouth twisted with anger but was unable to say a word. He didn't need to. Sam instantly saw what it meant, so he rose, walked to Dean and kissed him. Dean kissed him back almost violently and then grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside the cabin. Once they were both inside, Dean stopped and stared at Sam for a few seconds, and Sam didn't know what to do so he just mumbled "_I'm so sorry..._", and Dean cut him by kissing him again and pushing him on the ground.

He took his shirt of and kissed him everywhere on his chest, still knowing Sam's every soft spots. It made him cry, and while Dean was kissing the base of his neck while unbuttonning his jeans, he hid his eyes with his hand and kept on repeating he was sorry. Dean didn't make a sound, but soon Sam felt his mouth kissing the inside of his thighs and his tongue, licking through his boxers, he made a desperate and pleading whine and opened his eyes. Dean was staring at him, and his anger was gone. He looked almost happy, happy Sam still desired him that much. He took off his clothes while looking at Sam right in the eye, knowing the effect his feral gaze had on him, and once he was done, he straddled on Sam and whispered in his ear "_Show me..._".

_"Show you what?"_ asked Sam

_"How sorry you are"_ answered Dean. Sam perfectly understood the message and tried to show him the best way he could. A year with Amelia didn't change anything to his lust for Dean, and everything came back naturally. How he liked to be kissed on some places and bitten on some others. His eyes were closed, and he kept on repeating "_yeah, just like that_" and then it was just muffled moans, and his hand gripping Sam's hair. Tears were falling on Sam's cheeks, and he felt their salt on his lips along with Dean's, and it felt good, terribly good, but also nostalgic and almost painful. Even more when Dean pinned him on the hard floor, bit his jaw and said "_Missed you so bad_" while gently kissing his earlobe. Sam cried "_I love you_", and a moment after Dean was inside him, driving him crazy with pleasure while his back was painfully scratched by the wooden floor. He found out he liked a little pain too.

They both fell asleep on the floor after that, and Sam knew at that moment he would never come back to Amelia. Even if he did still love her, it was nothing compared to the fire Dean was able to start inside him.

This was one of those times when he felt like they could solve their problems by reconnecting through sex. And it was already a mistake.

He didn't have the time to dream for too long because maybe two hours after he fell asleep, Dean waked him up with some terrible music because, of course, Cas had called, apparently about a case in Minnesota.

Dean hadn't sleep, he said he wasn't tired, that he even felt, as he said "fan-friggin-tastic", when Sam was feeling like he needed to drink a gallon of coffee to be able to walk straight. He managed to convince Dean it wasn't a good idea to bring the First Blade. He was still a little shaken up by Abaddon's death, and it was a real relief to see that Dean was able to leave it, things were maybe not that bad.

They found out that some of Cas's followers had gone all Al Qaeda and were blowing themselves up "For Castiel", as they said. Cas of course said he didn't know anything about that but surprisingly enough, Dean didn't believe him. And even if Sam couldn't help but showing a little satisfaction at Dean, for once, not trusting Castiel, it was yet another anomaly in his behavior. And the second was asking Sam to follow Castiel on a mission to find one of his missing followers named Josiah.

A long, long drive with Castiel. God help me, thought Sam. After a long and awkward silence, they had a little conversation when Castiel finally asked Sam about Dean's behavior, linking his anger and the fact he didn't seem to trust him anymore to the effects of the Mark. Sam tried to be nice, but now, when he thinks about it, he never really has the occasion to be alone with Cas so he might as well use it.

_"Listen Cas. I'm gonna tell you something and I... won't repeat it. Don't hurt Dean again." _he says, looking at the road.

_"What do you mean?" _asks Castiel, sounding really incredulous.

_"You know what I mean. Asking him to torture? That was a dick move Cas. It was."_

Sam's voice is terribly calm.

_"You said you were not trying to be God, fine. But if something happens to Dean because you're too busy playing World of Warcraft with Metatron... I'll never forgive you."_

Sam looks now at Castiel and the angel seems a litte sad.

_"I don't think I would forgive myself either Sam." _he says, looking at the window

_"Don't try to make me feel sorry for you." _It's not the moment to be weak.

_"I'm not. Sam... I know we had our differences but hum... I really value my friendship with your brother."_

Castiel looks at Sam with his big blue eyes, and Sam starts to understand why Dean can't get mad at him. He seems to honestly regret what he's done.

_"Cas. When you're friend with someone, you don't put him in harm's way, you don't ask him to do things that he shouldn't be doing."_

_"It wasn't an order Sam, I told him he could refuse and he accepted, so what was I supposed to do?"_

Sam sighes, a little angry.

_"You don't ask him to hurt people. You just don't."_

Cas remains silent for a while and then says

_"You love him."_

Sam almost looses control of the car

_"What?"_ he yells

_"Don't be embarrassed, the Bible is filled with stories like yours. And I'm not even talking about other religions. Or pop culture."_ answers Castiel. _"I just wanted to tell you I understand you're worried, and that I won't do anything else that could upset you Sam."_

Sam's always known Castiel guessed about them - after all he's never been the kind to respect privacy - but hearing him mentionning it like that is just... Sam wonders if he has ever talked with Dean about it.

_"I will do everything I can so your brother remains safe."_

Sam turns to Castiel, and the angel is still staring at him with his unsettling eyes. He mumbles

_"Uh... thanks..."_

Castiel adds

_"I'm really sorry about everything I've done to you, I really am. I'm trying to redeem. But it's hard, I don't... know if I'm doing the right thing, if I'm going the right way and..."_

Sam laughs

_"You sound just like Dean."_

Cas frowns

_"Do I?"_

Sam makes a sad smile

_"When he's himself, yes."_

Cas puts his and on his shoulder and Sam gets a little stiff at the contact.

_"Everything is going to be fine Sam."_ he says, and Sam laughs again.

_"You spend definitely too much time with Dean."_

Castiel smiles at Sam, his hand clenched on his trench coat.

_"Your brother is my first... friend."_ he says, hesitantly. _"He taught me I was someone. That I had a value."_

Sam looks at Cas, and notices a little sadness in his eyes. He says

_"Yeah... Sounds like Dean. When I was a kid he was always there to cheer me up when our dad..."_

_"He told me how he was. And John Winchester's reputation precedes him, if I may."_

Sam laughs

_"You may, you may."_

_ "I just want you to know that your brother really loves you."_

Sam frowns, and feels a little embarrassed.

_"Cas... I don't know if I want to... I mean I never talked about it to... anyone"_

Cas cuts him

_"When you were soulless, he instantly guessed something was wrong"_

Sam laughs a little again

_"I was acting like a replicant Cas."_

Cas looks at him and says

_"He told me it could not be you. He told me... You did not love him anymore. He said he had just realized how much he liked being loved by you when you stopped loving him."_

Sam asks

_"He told you that?"_

_"Yes. Sam he... begged me for help. He said you had turned into... what your father would have liked you to be. Into what he would have liked you to be when he was still resentful about Ruby. He was crying on the phone. I told him I couldn't help him."_

Sam turns to him, surprised

_"You did what?"_

_"At this point, we did not know if anything was wrong with you. So, to me, doing something would have been... going against your free will."_

Sam nods.

_"Dean told me I had to help, he told me... he loved you._ _He asked me if I understood what it meant and I answered I perfectly did but that it was not a sign of illness, or curse, to stop loving someone"_

_"I guess not"_

_"He said that to him it was, that your... love was... who you were. Yes that's what he said. That's who we are"_

Sam's hand are clenched on the wheel and he feels his eyes burn. Dean's never told him anything about that. He hears himself mutter

_"So why did he... shut me out? Even after that we..."_ he rubs his eyes and tries to remain focused on the road.

_"I guess your brother and I have the same problem. We try to do the right thing. We fail to see what it is. And on our way we hurt other people."_

Sam whispers

_"Cas..."_

_"Without your brother, I would have remained a hammer, a tool, used by his superiors. And without you, your brother would have been just the same. That's what he's always told me."_

_"He has?"_

_"Yes. So, you see, I actually owe you. I see you as a friend Sam. I do."_

Sam turns to Castiel, and the angel looks right at him. There is only kindness in his eyes, and Sam sees how similar he is to Dean. Him too is a good soul damaged by his Father, damaged by life and the mistakes he made. Him too can drive himself mad with guilt. If Sam's able to forgive Dean, he should be able to forgive Cas as well.

He smiles at him and say "You're also my friend Cas.", and this time he really means it.

_"I am glad. As for Dean I... I know what power can do to people, I experienced it myself. But I am afraid the Blade is not only power, that it feeds on... his soul..."_

_"I don't think it does Cas."_

_"Why?"_

Sam sighes and then chuckles. Why hiding the truth?

_"Because Dean has been far from distant these last weeks."_

_"What do you mean?"_

Sam turns to Cas and rolls his eyes a little.

_"What do you think?"_

Cas takes a moment and then says

_"Oh! That..."_

Sam laughs like a child. Cas's dorky side is actually funny sometimes. Then he adds, more seriously,

_"No I think it... gives him something. Confidence, power... He doesn't feel guilty anymore, he doesn't doubt... He..."_

_"I have seen that. Sam?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Whatever happens I will help you protect your brother."_

_"Thanks Cas, it really means a lot"_

It's actually nice to have a friend. It's been such a long time since he had a normal conversation with one, that even if this isn't your regular friendly chat, it feels good.

Maybe they still have a chance to save Dean.

Good thing he left the Blade at home.

Right?


	17. Blast

Sam has locked him in a cage.

At first he felt like punching the walls and yelling like a maniac. But Sam was gone with Cas, and there was no way he would come back to open the door. If Sam went after Metatron alone, he would die. And this, Dean couldn't allow. Metatron is the closest thing to God, and Sam can't defeat a God.

Sam's always wanted what's best for him and sometimes it just clouds his judgement. Like, trusting Gadriel? That scumbag who killed Kevin and who lied about his true identity? He deserved to die! He deserved to be sliced like all the others, like all those stupid angels who are just a troop of sheeps, ready to follow the most powerful shepherd and to turn their back on their leaders for details.

Sheeps.

"_I am the good shepherd"_ said Metatron, more or less, and all those idiots followed, fooled by his pathetic Jesus impression.

Well all right, he took the Blade when Sam asked him to leave it at home but Sam... Sam doesn't understand they need, he needs this weapon. With it, they're safe and that's what Sam's always wanted, that's what they've both always wanted. So, leaving it at home for what? For getting killed? It's not a fucking video game! There are no "boss fights", you don't get in a room full of supplies with a big save point so you can restart the game if you screw up. No, screwing up means dying and Sam going against Metatron means he dies.

And he can't die. That's why Dean told him he had to let him do everything he had to do. Dictatorship was maybe a little over the top but yes, if him being a tyrant for just a couple of days can save them well he's ready to be the bad guy. Why doesn't he understand? He can't die...

Not now, not after Dean finally understood he had always been the one he needed, he had always been his only love. Not now. They can still have a life together, it's not too late.

They've been thinking about it for such a long time.

Dean remembers, close to fifteen years ago, in January, or February 2000. It was the middle of the night. Dean had just turned twenty-one and had celebrated his birthday by binge drinking in a bar. John hadn't forgotten about it, but he was on a trail to find Yellow Eyes and as he said, they had other priorities. They were in Michigan, and it had been snowing for days. John had left them in an old house he had rent to a local guy, "my grandpa's" he'd said, and looking at it, one wondered how it was still standing. The day before, the heaters stopped working, and apparently, the antique boiler was to blame, and Dean had no idea how to make it function again. So he had lit a fire in the living room's chimney, and brought his and Sam's mattress close to the hearth. Outside, it was freezing, and inside, everytime they breathed, a cloud of steam came out of their mouths.

Dean doesn't remember precisely why John had left without them, but he does recall Sam's look when their father drove away, a glare that meant good riddance. He was terribly gloomy, not even trying to smile a little or to talk, and Dean wondered why he was so dark. He was going to be seventeen in May, and he should have been enjoying life like other kids, instead of being stuck in a ruin with his twenty-one year old brother. So yes, of course he was sad.

They had a light dinner, Sam wasn't hungry, and went to bed early. He only opened his mouth to curse their father, and to tell Dean if he was not back by tomorrow they should leave this dump and never come back. Dean managed to calm him down, saying they would think about all this in the morning, knowing he wouldn't leave whatever happened. It was getting colder and colder, but fortunately, earlier they had found old blankets to add over their sleeping bags, so they managed to fall asleep despite the cold.

And in the middle of the night, Dean woke up to Sam poking his shoulder, and asking if he was asleep.

_"I was Sammy, what's wrong",_ he said, with a sleepy voice.

_"I'm cold. I can't sleep."_ whispered Sam.

Dean turned to him, and in the dim moonlight, he could see Sam's lips trembling. He took his hands.

_"God Sammy you're freezing! What's wrong?"_

And he pulled him close to warm him up, vigorously rubbing his arms through the blanket.

_"I don't know, I think I'm sick..."_

Dean touched his forehead.

_"Yes... I think you are, you're quite hot... Come here."_

Dean tried to take Sam in his arms, but Sam pushed him away. Dean grabbed his torch to get some light and said, with his best big bro tone

_"Sammy you're cold, and there's too much snow for me to drive you to a doctor, if I find one at this hour so uh... you need to get a little warmed up. I'll take you to one in the morning if that doesn't get better."_

Sam nodded

_"I know you think you're too old for this, but bear with it all right?" _Dean added, chuckling. He saw there was something desperate in Sam's eyes, but then he just thought it was, he didn't know, pride? So he just opened his arms and Sam snuggled against him, just like when he was little, tucking his face in his neck, and he made a little sigh.

_"Comfy?"_ said Dean, in a smile, and he heard Sam mutter _"Jerk"_ in his neck, and feeling his lips against his skin tickled a little. Dean began to rub Sam's back with his free hand, but way gentler than before, and he felt Sam getting more and more relaxed, and then his arm embracing him and pulling him closer.

_"Still cold?"_ he asked

_"I'm good now"_, answered Sam, _"thank you"_.

Dean went on petting Sam's back, but now only with the tip of his fingers, and he closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep, when he heard Sam's voice again.

_"Dean?"_

_"Yeah Sammy?"_

_"Why... why Dad doesn't like me?_"

Dean opened his eyes and put his face on the same level than Sam's. The kid had tears in his eyes, or maybe was it just the fever. He rubbed his cheek with his thumb and said

_"Why do you say that Sammy?"_

Sam closed his eyes and said

_"Because it's true. You see how he talks to me... how he looks at me like I'm... I don't even know..."_

Dean began to smoothe his hair

_"Sammy... Sammy hey... Listen... You know how he is... he uh... he's not good with words and you really look like..."_

_"Stop it..."_

Sam opened his eyes and Dean saw a tear fall.

_"I'm not a kid anymore Dean."_ he said, and then, smiling through his tears he added, _"but thank you for that, it helped me for years. It's just that... I'd like to know why... just once in my life, why does he drags me around if he can't stand me... why doesn't he just... let me... on the side of the road so I can...live... you know?"_

Dean wiped his tears

_"I would never, ever, let you on the side of the road Sammy."_

Sam closed his eyes again.

_"I know." _and another tear fell.

_"Why are you so sad little one?" _whispered Dean, and he hadn't called Sam Little One since he was a baby.

"_Because I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know why I'm here. Do you?_" he said, gripping Dean's shoulder. Dean sighed

"_Frankly Sammy, no, I don't. It's just... my life, you know... I've been dragged into it and I'm good at living it so... I guess it's just the way it is.", _he saw Sam frown, and he knew this time he couldn't get away with his pretend carefree attitude.

_"Basically, if there's something in my life that has a meaning it's uh... being your brother."_

Sam got closer

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah. You know I don't think Dad cares about me more than he does about you but what I know for sure is that since you were born, there was not a day when you didn't bring... something... I don't know... how to call it... to my life. Not one."_

Sam hugged Dean again

_"Tell me how..."_

_"I don't know Sammy, I guess it's what people say about... taking care of someone it gives you... purpose I guess. I mean, Dad's revenge is a purpose, but it's his. And even if I want dead the guy who killed Mom it's not what makes me get up in the morning you know."_

Sam embraced him tighter

_"It's knowing that... you need you breakfast and to get ready for school... that you'll always have something to tell me at the end of the day... It's how you see me... I don't know really... But the truth is that when I spent two days alone with Dad I feel like shit, I feel like a failure, like I deserve nothing and..."_

Sam pushed him away

_"That's bullshit Dean, don't ever believe that."_

Dean laughed

_"...and then you're the one who cheers me up in just one sentence."_

Sam smiled and got closer again, this time his head close to Dean's heart.

_"We're a team"_, said Dean, "_maybe we don't know where we're going, but we're going there together, and as long as it's like that, it's fine for me_"

Dean rolled on his back and Sam put his head on his shoulder and his hand on his belly. Dean shuddered at the touch, though there were layers of blankets, sleeping bag and clothes between Sam's hand and his skin. He was certainly a little feverish too. Sam's right leg then went over his left knee and Dean felt his brother's warmth invading him through the sheets. It felt nice.

Sam whispered, close to his ear

_"You're right... we're a team... Dean?"_

_"Yeah"_

_"We'll have a good life one day... just you and me...",_ Dean chuckles, _"don't laugh. Don't... One day... Dad won't be able to touch us anymore and..."_

_"Sammy..."_ said Dean, putting his left hand on Sam's knee

_"You asked me why I was sad earlier... Well it was also... mainly because... he did nothing for your birthday... It's been more than a week and I was expecting... something."_

_"It's fine Sam..."_ replied Dean but he felt a little sad. He had spent the last few days trying not to think what would his mother have done for his twenty first birthday. Certainly a big party. She used to organize terrific afternoons with his little neighbors when he was a kid so... Anyway, in those moments it was better not to stir up old memories.

_"No, it's not. We'll do something tomorrow if I'm better."_ said Sam, almost rolling on Dean and looking at him right in the eye.

_"You already gave me a present."_ added Dean, feeling a little uneasy at Sam's intense gaze.

_"Yeah but I want to celebrate with you. I want... to makes things better for you."_ said Sam, putting his hand on Dean's shoulder.

_"You do..."_

Sam sat, noticing Dean's unease. He bit his lip and said

_"You could leave, you know. You're twenty one now, you're free."_

Dean sat too and frowned

_"He won't let me leave with you"_

Sam took his hand

_"I wasn't saying..."_

Dean held Sam's, still cold, in his

_"Sammy, I'm not leaving you alone with him. I'm not leaving you at all, ever."_

He saw tears appearing in Sam's eyes

_"Someday"_ he says, with a trembling voice, _"someday I'll give us the life we deserve Dean... I will..."_

Dean grabbed him and hugged him

_"I love you so much_" mumbled Sam between two sobs, _"I love you..."_

_"I love you too little brother"_, replied Dean with an unsteady voice. Those words meant a lot back then, and with what he knows now, it makes it even stronger. It was the first time Sam told him he loved him with _that_ intent. Dean remembers he already liked his brother's touch back then, that it started something he didn't recognize. He already knew he was unable to live without him, that he was what gave his life meaning.

He wish he had admitted his feelings earlier. Sam's stare that night is the same he still gives him seconds before kissing him. That's what he was waiting for then. That's what he's always waited for. Just his love.

He suddenly feels sick and throws up on the ground.

Blood.

He looks at his face in the mirror, covered in blood, and suddenly, he understands what's been worrying Sam these last days. He looks like a monster. He can't deny it. He's been enjoying killing since he has the mark and since Abaddon it's only got worse.

But he didn't want to see it, he just wanted to focus on... Focus on what? Don't fool yourself Winchester it wasn't only about killing Metatron or whoever it was also about the power, the feeling of calm, of control, of certainty.

Like for the first time he actually managed to have a clear vision of what a future with Sam could be. His guilt was such a burden than when he abandonned it he realized it was possible. He and Sam were possible. He could enjoy waking beside him every morning. He could burn under his touch and scream when he felt his heat inside him. With no shame. No second thoughts.

He felt also strong for the first time, strong enough to fight anything, and to take his revenge on life. Strong enough to walk all over the people who would have called them sick and twisted and wrong. Why didn't he have that strength before? How was it so hard to love him in broad daylight when everybody knew?

He needs to know what's happening to him, and even if it doesn't please him, he has to summon Crowley.

* * *

Crowley usually doesn't like to be bothered when he's in the middle of something, here a nice massage. If it was a regular human calling him he would propably bash his head on a rock for disturbing him, but it's his mate Dean Winchester so it's sort of different.

Dean is certainly way closer to being his mate now, since he has killed Abaddon.

Crowley thinks he should light a candle in the loving memory of Alastair for having trained him so well. Dean handles the Mark like such a champion, it's uncanny, even for him. If everything goes out as planned, Crowley should have soon his own personal knight and blood provider. And friend maybe. He hasn't had a friend in centuries, and now he's been spoiled with Moose's blood he feels like he needs one. Someone to talk to, someone to trust. And someone who's not as intelligent as he is of course.

Because a smarter person - or maybe someone less enamoured with Moose - would have seen him coming 500 feet away through the fog. But he was so eager to do the right thing, to make amends, to, basically, mend things, that it was easy to make him dance like a puppet.

Maybe he should also light a candle for Daddy Winchester on this one.

When he thinks Alastair spent fourty years trying to demonize him and Crowley is going to succeed in just a few weeks, it really makes him feel proud. He does deserve to be King of Hell.

And Dean deserves to be his right hand. His faithful sworn sword.

He doesn't know it yet though, but he will come to it. Deep down he knows he's blood thirsty and has a passion for revenge.

He will kill Metatron.

And then he will kill everyone in Crowley's path.

Maybe even Moose some day?

Or that whiny angel?

That would be a blast.


	18. His Worst Enemy

_"Do you think he's going after Metatron alone?"_ asks Gadriel.

Sam sighes. He's just come back to the bunker after finding the injured angel outside with Cas. Dean is gone, and the place reeks of sulfur. He summoned Crowley, obviously, they've been bromancing since the bastard tricked Dean into bearing the Mark. Because there must be a trick somewhere, or it wouldn't be Crowley. And the more Sam thinks about him, the more he wants to stick Ruby's knife in his heart for everything he's done to them since they've crossed path.

_"He is. He's an idiot."_ Sam answers, angry and worried. Gadriel looks at him with a confused gaze and Sam understands he doesn't get what Dean's IQ has to do with it. "_He wants to protect us, Cas and I. He thinks he's the only one who can kill Metatron._"

_"As I said, he might be right_", adds Gadriel.

_"Yes, I know"_ Sam says, having trouble not to sound annoyed, "_but I'm still worried about what he may do. I mean he's always been reckless and with the Blade it only got worse."_

Gadriel comes closer to Sam, and puts his hand on his shoulder. Sam tries to hide his unease, but notices there's something honest in Gadriel's eyes. He says, with a very solemn tone _"I know Sam."_, and Sam is kind of grateful that he doesn't add something like _"I was in your head once"_, with all the awkwardness it could bring.

Castiel has remained silent since he and Gadriel decided they would try to go to Metatron's office to destroy the Angels Tablet. He comes closer too and says

_"Can I talk to you in private Sam?"_

_"Yeah sure"_, and Gadriel nods politely before sitting on one of the librairy's chairs. Sam and Castiel head off to the kitchen and Sam wonders what Cas has to tell him. He seems a little lost in his thoughts, and even if it's his default mode, it's still a little strange. They both sit, and as a reflex Sam asks

_"You want to drink something?"_

And Cas answers _"I don't think I can appreciate it anymore, but thank you Sam_". He coughs and begins to stare at the table.

_"Ok Cas, what did you want to tell me?"_

Cas is scratching an old trace of coffee on the table.

_"Cas?"_ asks Sam, in a tone which means we don't have all day.

"_Yes... sorry... I don't really know how to begin._", he sighes, "_Sam, I am going to tell you something... Important. Something you need to know."_

_"All right, I'm listening."_

Cas begins

_"Dean needs you"_

Sam laughs

_"I think that's been fairly established."_

Cas still looks serious

_"I am not joking Sam. Things happened... back in Hell... things that turned Dean into..."_

_"Alastair's best pupil, I know that."_

The angel takes Sam's hand.

_"Dean underwent a demonization process down there"_

Sam jerks and takes his hand off

_"What?"_

_"They didn't want him to only break the first sceal, they also wanted him to become a demon. And he resisted. He's the first human I know to have fully resisted the process. And that makes him..."_

Castiel's eyes get lost again.

_"That makes him extraordinary Sam."_

Sam mumbles

_"I know."_

Cas takes his hand again.

_"But he's kept a lot of darkness inside since then. He...", _he pauses_, "he once told me that you... were the one... who kept him on the right tracks."_

Sam gets up and pours some old coffee in a cup, he needs to occupy his hands.

_"Who kept him human"_

Sam whispers

_"He said that?"_

Castiel rises and comes close to him

_"Yes he did. So... I don't know what the Blade is doing to him Sam, I really don't know. But I really think you should... stick up to him...", _Cas sighes,_ "I tried to be a good friend, but I too got lost, and in a terrible way, when i acquired too much power. I'm an angel of the Lord, and my Lord is gone. As every angel, I'm in need of guidance, and as you saw, I am not very good at guiding people myself."_

Sam turns to him and looks at him interrogatively. Cas continues

_"Dean too is in need of guidance."_

Sam nods

_"I know... It's been like this since we were kids..."_

Cas grabs his shoulder

_"Yours. Your guidance. You are his compass."_

Sam mutters

_"What?_

_"You are. Even if he's too proud to admit it in front of you, he knows you are."_

Sam is speechless.

_"So when you find him, even if he is going to tell you things you won't agree with, don't contradict him, don't antagonize him. Just stay by his side so he doesn't flee and make the same mistakes again."_

Sam smiles sadly, and says

_"Thanks."_

Cas adds

_"We'll save him Sam. You and me both"_

And Sam watches him leaving the room, still a little shaken up. A demonization process. That's why Dean was so mad at him back then, when he was taking Ruby's blood. And even after. Why has he never said anything? That's certainly what he mentioned the other day, the "_things that would explain_" his behavior... Sam feels a tear running on his cheek, damn Dean, why do you have to be so stubborn? This was a burden they could have carried together instead of both drowning in shame.

Stubborn Soldier. The one who always pushes him to take reckless decisions. Sam should have guessed all that would happen, he should have seen the war mask hiding his brother's features. But he was so blinded by love, and the hope all would soon be over that he didn't see. He didn't see that stiffness in his jaw, and his green eyes getting dim. He didn't listen when Dean said his violence against Abaddon was "his", because he didn't want to believe it was. He wanted so bad to blame it on the Blade...

But it wasn't the Blade when Dean rejected him. It wasn't the Blade when he hit him, when he beat him up for not being the one Dean wanted him to be. Just like John before, with the same words, the same mad eyes...

Dean doesn't need the Blade to be lost.

_"You can't tell me you never doubt"_ he said once, after pushing him away for the umpteenth time, one morning when Sam had just brushed his shoulder while passing behind him. Sam asked what he meant, doubt about what? And he had those cold eyes again, it was a few weeks after Lilith's death, when he was still so resentful. They were in another grim motel room, and they had, how to call it? Angry sex? the night before. Sam thought he could allow himself to be a little intimate during breakfast and Dean violently shove his hand away, groaning _"Stop that"_. So Sam sat and sighed "_What's wrong with you? I don't get you anymore...what the hell do you want of me?_". That was the moment when Dean asked if he ever doubted.

_"About what we do."_

Sam rolled his eyes

_"You mean sex?"_

Dean looked shocked, even slightly disgusted, _"Yeah Sam"_, he said, _"Yeah I mean sex. Don't you ever doubt? Don't ever tell yourself we shouldn't be doing that?"_. Sam tried to remain calm and replied with his most controlled voice

_"Why do you want to know that?"_

Dean frowned and didn't answer, but his eyes were locked on Sam's. Sam looked right back at him and added

_"What do you want me to say? No Dean, I never doubted, so you can conclude I'm some kind of amoral creature?"_

Dean looked a little less aggressive and whispered

_"Sammy..."_

_"Don't 'Sammy' me..."_ said Sam, sitting on the kitchen counter. _"So what? You want to know if I've ever felt guilty? I did. If I ever doubted? I did. If I ever... god damn it... felt ashamed? Well I did Dean, of course I did."_

Dean kept silent, but Sam could see his war mask crumbling. He started it, he was going to hear everything.

_"We're brothers. We've been raised together. No. You raised me. We spent our entire life side by side so yes, Dean, of course I doubt. Because even if you seem to think I don't have a moral code..."_

_"I've never said..."_

_"Let me finish!"_ Sam began to feel on edge, and insisted,_ "even if you think I have shallow morals well, I've always been smart enough to figure out by myself I shouldn't have sex with my brother... _

He got up and started to walk around the room.

_"That I shouldn't be in love with my brother."_, he added, feeling tears coming to his throat and he fought to keep them away. He glanced at Dean and noticed he had completely lost his anger and now seemed almost sad.

_"But where does that lead us, huh? To 'we should stop Sammy'? To 'this is no good Sammy'? To you wishing me an apple pie life, to you... dreaming of"_, he had a bitter laugh, _"suburban bliss, with a wifey and a kid and a dog and a RV?"_

Dean looked down. Sam angrily wiped a tear and said

_"Yeah, I know you. Better than you do."_, he leaned on a wall and tried to calm down.

Dean rose from his chair and walked to Sam.

_"Sam... I was dying..."_

Sam pushed him away

_"That's what you're gonna tell me? You were dying so you thought hey, why not kissing my brother? Why not fu...", _tears began to fall and he yelled_ "Fuck you Dean, if you want to stop, just tell me but don't you dare...", _he pushed him again_, "don't you dare telling me this was all a lie"._

Dean remained silent.

_"You were dying indeed. But if it made you something Dean, it made you honest."_

Dean coughed

_"What?"_

Sam walked to him

_"It made you honest. With your feelings. And me with mine. When you told me about your deal I understood that I couldn't loose any more time with guilt and doubts, that in the end, it didn't matter if what I felt was right or not."_

He walked closer

_"What mattered was I loved you and you loved me back."_

Dean said, gripping his shirt

_"You're my brother."_

Sam answered, in a calmer tone

_"I'm well aware. But you know what? If there's a burden I'm willing to carry, it's this one. I prefer to feel guilty rather than being miserable."_

_"Miserable?"_

_"I love you. I can't even... function without you."_

Dean failed at hiding the sadness in his eyes. He said, with a trembling voice,

"_You can't..."_

Sam sighed

"_No."_

_"And you never ask yourself if...it would be... better if it stopped? If you could go back to... simpler times?"_

Sam touched Dean's shoulder, and said, a little harshly

"_Yeah, I do. And I would have liked to have a normal childhood. I would have liked to know my mother and I would have liked my father to love me. I would have liked to ignore the existence of monsters, and I would have liked to finish college. Do you want me to continue?"_

Dean put his hand on Sam's.

"_What am I supposed to do then? Hate myself? Hate my life?" Hate you?", _he closed his eyes briefly, trying to keep calm, "_I wish... you could see us with my eyes. When I see you... I just think about... I don't know... good things. The things we shared... how much I love you... I don't know how to tell you that Dean but... what we do... no... who we are... it makes me happy. It's as simple as that."_

Sam walked one step closer

"_You have always been what makes my life worth living Dean. Since I was a kid. We're not bad people. We're both damaged and that's a fucked up life we're living, but I can bear with it because you're here with me. Because you love me."_

He carefully hugged Dean and he felt all the tensions in his back slowly fading. Dean embraced him and breathed heavily.

_"I can't do this alone..." _he said, after a while.

Sam whispered

_"Alone? Or without me?"_

Dean hugged him closer

_"Without you. I can't do anything without you."_

Why couldn't he remember this simple truth?

They're a team.

Nothing good has ever come from them being estranged. And yet, Dean keeps on pushing him away. Either to protect himself, or to protect Sam.

_I'm a bad person Sammy._

How many times did he hear that? Even before Hell, even when they were kids, when Dean started spending his evenings in bars and fucking every barfly he could drag in the bathroom or in his car. Or in their room. He used to drink a lot after and then asking things like "_You hate me right?_", and Sam just answered "_No Dean I would never hate you_", because he knew, he knew that's what he wanted to hear so he could just go lower, and sink, and disappear.

He hears Dean's screams again, when he was protecting him from John's anger. He remembers being hidden under a table, watching Dean, maybe nine or ten years old, being dragged around in the room and beaten like a dog. For not having put enough salt on the windows, for... nonsense. John calling him a worthless little shit, forbidding him to cry, be a man he yelled, be a man... Dean still has a scar on his shoulder from when John slammed him on their bedroom's door, that night in Michigan. John had left them alone for three weeks in a barely heated dump. They had ran out of money pretty quick and Sam never knew what Dean did to find some. He said playing pool. But Sam's always thought he lied, who could bring so much from pool?

He had said "_But Dean, I've just found a job at the diner, why couldn't you wait for me to get paid?_". And Dean had answered "_Ditch it Sammy, you need to go to school and I can take care of us_".

Dean... Dean refused to leave without him that night. Sam patched him up while crying like an infant. He wanted to kiss his scars, and he could stop himself from petting his brother's neck and shoulders, hearing Dean mumbling between two groans of pain, _"I'm ok Sammy, we're ok"_. How many times did he endure being hit and insulted, that poor, precious soul? That's why it was so heartbreaking to see him asking for pain sometimes like this one time just after Sam had regained his soul and Dean asked him to be rough... the words he used... how he was punching the wall, hurting his knuckles, not facing him... Sam was so disturbed he stopped and held him, telling him it was going too far, that he wasn't against a little kink but this...

"_I feel like I'm hurting you love... why do you want me to hurt you?_" he said, kissing him and caressing his cheek. And Dean gave him a desperate, painful and unbearably sad look, he was unable to say a word but his face said it all. He was just... lost, he didn't know where to stand, who he was, what he was supposed to be. Sam just took him in his arms and told him what they always told each other "_You're ok love, you're ok baby, I love you, I'm right here, I won't leave you_" and Dean started holding him so strongly Sam had trouble breathing and he just said "_Something's wrong with me Sammy_", with tears in his voice and Sam could only answer "_No_". Thinking yes, yes my sweet, sweet love, you've been so damaged. Why don't you come back to me? Why are you trying so hard to be that normal, straight, butch dick that John's always wanted you to be? When I love you just the way you are...

My smiling little boy with a black eye.

He told him he loved him for the first time back then in Michigan. Why do you love me? He still says, sometimes. Why do you love me Sammy? I just don't get it. And it makes Sam sigh and smile, because he likes to see Dean's eyes lighten up when he enumerates all the reasons why he loves him, from his moral qualities to the most trivial things.

So of course he won't let him go alone. He didn't even need to know what happened in Hell, after all.

He'll help him, and whatever happens, he'll save him. He doesn't think a word of what he said back then, the no more deal, no more resurrection. He will always find a way to save him because he's the only one who can, he's the only one who's ever cared about him since he came to sleep in Dean's bed when he was little, kissing his eyelids to make him laugh and whispering "_Don't cry Dea_" and later lashing out at John saying "_Don't you dare talking to him like this you asshole_".

He feels fueled with hate for all those who hurt him, all those who used him as a bait or as a weapon.

No one is hurting Dean again. Not on his watch.

So he runs to the library and starts to research. Dean's abilities in that field have never been enhanced by the Blade, so he can find some evidence before him. And he does.

When Dean arrives at the trailer park he's been waiting for him for hours, Sam has trouble repressing an eyeroll when he sees Crowley getting out of his car. He begins to lecture Dean and then remembers Castiel's words, don't contradict him, don't antagonize him. So he doesn't. He assures him he will support him, and it works, Dean asks Crowley to leave them alone with a simple stare, and they can finally drive to get Metatron.

In the car, Dean is silent and Sam still thinks about what he said. That he would kill Metatron, no matter the consequences. He nodded then, and said he understood, so Dean would stay with him and not flee with Crowley. But still, what did he mean? Are there consequences he doesn't know about? It's no use to ask Dean about it, he will answer there aren't and that he's fine. So maybe it's not the moment to talk.

Sam bends over and kisses Dean's shoulder before putting his head on it, and he soon feels Dean's hand gently rubbing his cheek. He closes his eyes, and he hears Dean say

_"Sammy?_"

Sam mumbles _"hmm-mm?"_ and puts in hand on Dean's lap.

_"Thank you. For being here."_

And he keeps silent for a moment, while Sam starts to pet his thigh. He kisses Sam's hair, and Sam rises a little and kisses his cheek. Dean smiles and Sam kisses the corner of his mouth.

_"Baby..."_, he says, trying to remain focused on the road, _"I'm sorry"_.

_"I know"_, answers Sam, _"It's ok love, it doesn't matter"_.

_"It does... I made a shitload of bad choices babe... I..."_

Sam sits back and tries to smile

_"It doesn't matter right now. What matters is... you're gonna kill Metatron. And then we'll have plenty of time to talk."_

Dean smiles

_"You're right."_

_"And Dean... Whatever happens. We're a team. And I'll never leave you."_

Dean coughs

_"It's here."_

And he parks the car without saying a single word.

They get out of the car, and Dean heads straight to the trunk, opening it and touching the Blade. It pains Sam to see him like this, so... addicted. Craving. He walks close to Dean and says

_"I'm going to walk around and talk to people, to find where he's hiding. Why don't you stay here and wait for me to come back ok?"_

Dean sits on the trunk but doesn't answer. Sam adds

_"I'll be right back._" and starts walking towards old industrial buildings. He tries not to show how worried he is by Dean's attitude, but he focuses on the fact it's going to be over soon. Tomorrow, Metatron will be dead and they will be in the Impala, driving home. And he will ask Dean if he wants to drop everything and leave with him. He's pretty sure this time he's going to say yes.

They will go somewhere sunny and nice, like southern France. He remembers seeing pictures of Jess's parents holidays there and it looked like what Heaven should be. Beautiful, peaceful, warm with excellent food, delicious wine and a bright blue sea. That would be great. But why does that sound so fake? And why does he have that sour taste in his mouth warning him it's not happening anytime soon?

He finally manages to gather some infos about "Marv" 's hideout and walks back to Dean, trying to focus on future plans and not the anxiety slowly invading his belly. Dean is still close to the car, looking at the Blade like a snake a snake charmer. He tries to conceal what he feels, and just dares asking a "_you good?_" Dean quickly dismisses with a harsh _"yeah I'm good_". Sam hands him the Blade, to show him his support, and he sees a hint of surprise in Dean's eyes. And then he hears him say

_"Listen Sammy, about the last couple of months..."_

Sam would like to hear him say what he's been expecting for weeks. I'm glad to have us back, I want us to stay together, that kind of things. But he also know that if he hears it he's going to turn into an emotional mess and it's not the moment to make Dean loose his concentration. So he cuts him and says

_"I know."_ keeping a serious face, and he quickly changes the subject adding, "_So, before we find something else to fight about... Tell me? Ready to fight this bitch?_"He smiles at Dean, before taking his bag, thinking he handled things pretty well.

And then he feels Dean's fist hitting him.

He falls on the ground and hears Dean's voice in a blur.

_"Sorry little brother, it's not your fight._"

Sam's last thought before loosing consciousness is that he forgot about Dean's worst enemy.

Himself.

Stronger than any kind of Blade.


	19. Is This How It Ends?

_"Mmm wake up babe"_ Dean kisses Sam's nose and he whines "_No...It's too early..._" and he hides under the sheets. Dean laughs.

_"It's past ten you big baby"_ and he walks to their apartment's kitchen. They've arrived in Croatia yesterday and it's looks mesmerizing. They're in that beautiful city, King's Landing said Sam, laughing, but the real name is Dubrovnik, and the place they rented has a little balcony from which they can see the Mediterranean sparkle like an saphire.

It's been almost a year since he killed Metatron and got rid of the Mark. He went to kill Cain, as promised, and it just disappeared with him. Apparently, the Mark could be transfered to someone worthy, but couldn't exist without him. So there were no deal to be made anymore. Castiel was running Heaven, assisted by Gadriel, and Crowley was King of Hell, assisted by no one. They had signed a truce, after all the Earth needed balance, and the two old enemies knew it.

Castiel had his grace replenished by God, as a sign of the Almighty almost officially making him his successor on Earth. Dean remembers how they both cried when they said goodbye, Castiel knowing his new responsibilities would keep him away from Earth for a very long time, and he also knew it was time for the brothers to cut loose with the supernatural world. Dean had given him the keys to the Men of Letters Bunker, knowing he would certainly find some good people to continue their research. And his first miracle as the new God was giving the Winchesters a well filled bank account, as a reward for their work in serving Earth's future.

When they left for the airport, it still felt like they were going on a hunt. They still had the same clothes, and they were still driving the Impala. It was a long drive, they had to go to New York so Dean's other Baby would be shipped to England in a container. There was no way he would have let it rot in a garage after all, it had been his only stable home for years. And then they were on a plane, crossing the Atlantic, and Dean couldn't stop looking at Sam and holding his hand to be sure this was real. Sam was ecstatic about leaving, about visiting Europe. It was, as he said, the kind of roadtrip he wanted to do since always.

Dean drinks his coffee on the balcony. The air smells like honey and the sun is getting warmer, even if there is a chilly wind. It's only april after all, but maybe later they can try to go swimming. He smiles at Sam who fell right back asleep, and gosh, it would be a shame if he missed such a nice morning, so Dean pours him his favorite tea and walks slowly to the bed.

"_Sammy... sweetheart..._", Sam moans, "_What?_" and opens one hazel eye, his face hidden by his chestnut bangs.

_"I made breakfast..."_

Sam grabs him by his shirt and pulls him on the bed.

_"What are you doing?_" he says, laughing.

_"Good morning lover"_ mumbles Sam, while kissing him. He's only wearing his boxers and Dean thinks that if he doesn't stop him right now they won't do much today.

He quickly escapes the bed, leaving a frustrated Sam sitting on it and calling him a jerk. Five minutes later, Sam has passed a t-shirt and is sit in front of him drinking his tea.

_"I wanted you to see that",_ says Dean, drinking his second cup of coffee. He has a big smile on his face and life has never seemed so beautiful. Sam smiles right back and says "_You're right, you're always right love_".

He stretched his long limbs and said "_I can't believe we're already here, let's see we've been to the UK, to France, to Spain..."_

Dean adds "_To Italy, to Germany, to Prague..."_

Sam laughs, "_Not a country Dean! So to Czech Republic, to Greece and then..._"

_"To Westeros_" says Dean grinning.

_"I hope we'll see dragons"_ replies Sam smiling like a child. "_No, I hope we won't because they're scary as fuck and I'm not hunting that. Ever._", he corrects, and Dean burst out laughing.

He gets up and kisses Sam, mumbling a "_you're so cute_" in his mouth, and Sam pushes him away a little, saying "_You can't call me cute, I'm taller than you_". Dean replies _"Finish your breakfast you little brat"_, chuckling, and Sam kisses him murmuring "_All right, all right_".

He's so lucky.

So lucky to have him in his life. If everything he's been through since he was four happened for him to live that precise morning then he's fine with it. It was worth suffering, and dying, and fighting if he can spend the rest of his life drifting around the world's roads with his lover by his side, his car and some good music.

The world still turns without him constantly risking his life.

If this is how it ends then he's glad.

He feels so good right now. He feels so...

_"Hey!_

Hurt.

_"Hey, hey, hey..."_

Sam?

He has trouble breathing and his chest aches like he's been stabbed.

He has.

Metatron stabbed him. Did he just... spaced out? It felt so real. He looks at Sam. He's been so stupid...

Oh baby, oh god. He's going to die.

He was wrong again. Sam wasn't the one who needed protection. He was. As usual. He's always convinced himself his job was to keep Sam safe, that Sam needed his help to stay alive but truly if it wasn't for him, Dean would have died at teenage. He would have crashed his car or got killed while hunting because there would have been no one, no one to miss him.

If he's remained a more or less decent person it's because of Sam, it's because of Sam's eyes on him. There's always so much love in Sam's eyes, he's never seen that in anyone else's. When Sam looks at him he feels like a giant, like he's invincible. That's what he needed to defeat Metatron, not that God damn First Blade. If Sam had been there, he would have tried to shield him from his enemy, he would have protected him. They're a team. How did he forgot that?

Oh yes... the Mark... that stupid Mark

And his pride.

If Sam had been close to him he wouldn't have a hole in his chest right now.

* * *

When Sam woke up on the side of the road, at first he felt extremely angry. At himself, for lowering his guard when he perfectly knows what Dean is able to do in that kind of situation and at Dean for being such a stubborn moron.

And then he felt afraid.

These last few weeks he's been having that constant presentiment, a nagging thought, waking him up in the middle of the night. This is too good to be true. It struck him the first time he thought "home" about the bunker. Every time he feels at home somewhere, every time he tries to build something, it just collapses to nothing. He wanted to believe this time it would be different, but who was he kidding? He used to be a psychic, he should be able to discern anxiety from premonition.

Fear made him run faster than he had ever ran, he had such a feeling of emergency he could barely breathe. When he arrived in the squat, he was ready to shoot every single person who would stand in his way. No one did. They saw it in his eyes, they saw he wasn't joking.

The old factory was like a labyrinth, and he tried his best to calm down, not to be disoriented, and to be attentive at any noise that could indicate Dean's location. When he heard his voice he felt relieved. It wasn't too late.

He was somehow convinced that despite Cas's and Gadriel's help, despite the Blade, Metatron wouldn't be an easy kill, that Dean wouldn't win this fight.

He has just heard them fight, and Dean was the one beaten up.

He runs faster. And keeps thinking please God, please God, protect him, please protect him. He lost his faith a long time ago but he's ready to pray every single deity for Dean to be alive.

And then he sees him, lying on the ground, his face covered in blood.

A man is crouched beside him and he...

He...

Stabs him?

NO.

No, no, no.

Sam runs the last few feet between Dean and him, oblivious to his own safety as the man, Metatron is still standing next to his brother. Dean has seen him before falling on the ground, and Sam read "I'm sorry" in his eyes. But it's no time to crumble, he can still be ok right?

Fueled with rage he tries to kill Metatron, but the bastard disappears. That's what they always do. Doesn't matter, he'll find him later.

He comes close to Dean and he still has the strength to tell him Sam should get out before he comes back. That's so Dean, being half dead and still thinking about Sam's safety. But Sam won't hear it, something inside him even thinks that if Dean doesn't survive, he kind of hopes Metatron will come back to finish the job.

_"Shh... Shut up, save your energy"_, says Sam, pressing a bandana on Dean's wound. But he feels Dean's pulse getting weaker under his hand, and the blood his so...so red. If Metatron's blade's touched an artery... Dean doesn't have to hear it, right? And Sam doesn't even want to think about it so... "_We'll stop the bleeding, we'll get you to a doctor or find a spell...you're gonna be ok_" he says, and the list could go on and on. Because right now, there isn't a thing, there isn't anything he wouldn't do to stop what's happening, to stop Dean's life from leaking from his heart

* * *

Dean would smile if every move wasn't so painful. But Sam needs to hear it

_"Listen to me, it's better this way..."_

_"What?"_

_"The Mark, it's making me into something I don't wanna be"_

He didn't have the time to tell him about Hell. He didn't have enough time to tell him how hard he's been fighting against the darkness and how many times Sam saved him from drowning by just remaining with him.

He doesn't want to disappear in the mineshaft. He doesn't want to be that ruthless, soulless mercenary he was in Hell. Sam should know... Sam should know if Dean has any soul, it's him. And he should have listened to him, he should have let him take the decisions for them Sam...

Sam, I still have your bus ticket in my wallet... It's wrinkled and half worn-away but I still have it...

_"Don't worry about the Mark, we'll figure about the Mark later"_ says Sam and he lifts him up, saying they're going to get some help but Sam...

Dean's eyes feel heavy and everything he sees is blurry. The light's shining too bright and he almost doesn't feel pain anymore.

He knows what it means, it means he's close to dying.

But Sam said... Sam said he'd save him, didn't he?

_"What happened with you being ok with this?"_

* * *

_"I lied" _answers Sam, because there's nothing else to say. And Dean still has the energy to be cocky about this, saying "_Ain't that a bitch_", oh God make it a sign he's gonna be ok.

He doesn't have enough time to explain that he didn't. He didn't lie. In an ideal world, you should always respect your partner's consent. But normal people don't deal with death everyday like they do.

Back then, in the church, he wanted to die, and he wanted it to be final, because they were over. Because them was the last string attaching him to life, and Dean had decided to cut it. He wanted them to be just like when they were children, when everybody's roles were, to him, simpler. When they were not so tangled up and complicated, or so he thought.

It's so common for abused kids to make up an imaginary past. It had always been troubled and dysfunctional between them. They had always been everything to each other, brother, friend, father, son and lover was just the last of the list. Trying to erase it was pointless if Dean didn't also give up his fatherly attitude, his needy moments at night, his jealousy towards Sam's friends...

Dean saw them as fucked up beyond redemption when Sam saw this relationship as some kind of redemption.

Something bordering on the sublime, utterly and terribly beautiful. A majestic tree growing on a wasteland.

You cannot loose a love like this and expect to survive.

So no, he didn't lie back then.

But now everything's different. If Dean loves him, the world and its rules can go to Hell.

* * *

Sammy's strong. It's striking him again, as Sam is trying to carry him outside. Dean has more and more trouble to keep his legs walking and his eyes open. He knows that if he closes them he won't pass out.

He will die.

He's been there before, when the Hell Hounds ripped him apart. First he was in a lot of pain and then he couldn't feel a thing. And everything seemed so... bright...

Sam wants to save him, he said he lied, and at that moment, Dean thought about the irony of his injury.

So close to the heart, so close to literally heart broken.

Because there are so many things he would like to tell Sam, and so little time. If he had just five minutes ahead of him, he would tell him how much, how much he loves him. In that kind of moments he'd like to have more vocabulary, to have read more real books instead of comics and pulp fictions. Sam always has beautiful things to say. When Sam talks about them, he sounds like a river. He knows it's a silly thing to say but that's the first image that comes to his mind.

It's so natural, love, in Sam's mouth, it just... flows like a peaceful stream, and sometimes it crushes everything like a flood. He has a thousand metaphors to express it, when Dean struggles with a couple of words.

Sam should know Dean is in love with him, because he never told him. Not that way anyway. He never dared to pronounce those words because of everything it implied.

Once Sam said he preferred to be a little ashamed and happy than righteous and miserable, and he has never been more right. Except for one thing.

Dean doesn't feel guilty anymore.

He doesn't feel ashamed anymore.

And even if that feeling is going to disappear with his life, he has never felt better because at last he can see them for what they are. Lovers. He doesn't know anyone else who has that. Who can honestly say his lover would sell his soul to the Devil to have him back? Would poison himself to save him? Would face Death everyday rather than being away from him? Would abandon everything, home, friends, future, for driving endlessly across the same dull landscapes, chasing monsters and fleeing from destiny?

Who would rather see the world going to Hell than loosing his lover?

So many people divorce out of petty things. So many families are destroyed for nothing.

They're lovers.

Strong, loyal, faithful.

Beautiful.

Sam should know that, Sam should know... before the blood in his lungs finishes to smother him...

_"Hold up... Hold up..."_

He sits down, helped by Sam who looks at him with his loving, oh so loving hazel eyes. He's never told him he has gorgeous eyes, that kind of silly love talk. Except it's not silly... Sam told Dean a million times what he loved about him. Sam kisses his freckles one by one and call them adorable to piss him of. Sam kisses his eyelids to wake him up. Sam should know Dean marvels at his changing eyes. The golden circle around his pupils...how they're almost turquoise when he's happy and how they turn to khaki when he's mad. How it's the only mirror he likes to look at, because it reflects someone lovable and funny, someone intelligent and valuable, a genius even. Someone beloved.

_"I gotta say something to you..."_

He touches Sam's shoulder and then his neck. Does Sam know how he likes to touch this little spot behind his earlobe, where the skin is so thin and sensitive it tickles a little?

There is a stream of memories rushing in his mind. All the times they made love. All the times they kissed. All the times they fought. All the times he found comfort in Sam's arms and all the times he didn't judge him.

That fight on a diner's parking lot.

Sam saying "_Are you ashamed? Of me, of us, of what we do?_" and handing him his gun... Asking him to put an end to his misery because he couldn't stand the shame in Dean's eyes. He apologized back then, he said he was sorry for slapping him, that he loved him, but he never said...

What Sam really needed to hear.

_"I'm proud of us."_

* * *

Dean said he was proud of them.

Sam doesn't know how many times he dreamed this day would come, but if he does know something it's that he's never fantasized he would hear those words out of Dean's last breath. Dean collapsed on his shoulder right after, and Sam didn't believe it was over yet, he tried to wake him up saying "_No, no. Hey, hey, hey. Hey, wake up, buddy_.".

Buddy.

Stupid daytime reflex.

And then he saw Dean's closed eyes. He held him by the neck and felt no pulse. He called him a first time

_"Dean!"_

As if it could wake him up as if... No, no he couldn't have said something like this and then just...no.

_"Dean!"_

But there wouldn't be any miracle today. There wouldn't even be a goodnight kiss. So Sam held him tight and tried to feel the last traces of Dean's warmth on his lips, crying his heart out, sobbing don't leave me, not now, not after what you said.

He cried for minutes, he cried for hours, he doesn't even remember. He knows that at some point, he didn't have any tears left, and Dean's body had become ice cold. Sam was covered in Dean's blood and it had dried. He had his blood on his face, on his clothes and on his lips. Dean's lips had turned blue, but Sam kissed them again, shedding one last tears at their coldness. He thought about his knife, he thought about his gun. Maybe the easiest thing would be ending his life? Maybe Dean's soul was waiting for him, was right beside him at this very moment.

But no, it couldn't happen there, in that dreadful, rusty, desperate place. He needed to go back home. Dean deserved to go back home. Their home.

So he carried him. He carried him like a child and somehow, maybe because of the shock, certainly because of the shock, Dean's body felt light. He tucked his head under his chin, where Dean's always liked to rest, and walked out the factory.

The people there stared at him in silence, and no one dared saying a word. And it was a good thing, because if anyone had, Sam isn't sure he wouldn't have killed them all.

He sat Dean on the Impala's passenger's seat, and fastened his seatbelt, resting his head against the window. He wiped the blood out of his face, and the tears came right back, because it felt so achingly familiar. He had done the same thing when Dean was slaughtered by the Hell hounds. Cleaning him, sewing him neat and pretty so he wouldn't look so hurt. Now he looked like he was sleeping, even if Dean was never able to sleep in the car, or to let Sam drive for that matter.

Sam sat in Dean's place and whispered

_"Don't worry, you'll get your seat back quick love" _

He started to cry again, his forehead resting on the steering wheel.

_"I know you're here, I know you're with me so... I'm taking you home love. You hear me? I'm taking you home."_

He managed to start the engine with his trembling hands and kept on talking to Dean

_"Do you want some music? I know shotgun is supposed to shut his cake hole babe, but hum... It's still your car, right?"_

Tears kept on falling, and Sam turned on the radio. Old rock tunes he had heard a thousand times filled the car and replaced the too painful silence.

Sam doesn't remember the rest of the trip. He drove on auto pilot for hours until he reached the bunker and carried Dean to his room, lying him on his bed, when they had made love not such a long time ago.

It brought tears to his eyes and he thought Dean wouldn't be alone for long.

Now it's been maybe an hour that he's sit in the library, drinking Dean's bourbon, and thinking about what to do next. He could lie beside Dean and shoot himself. That would be the easiest thing to do.

Because the only person who could have done something for Dean is Castiel, and he is nowhere to be found.

Castiel loves Dean. He's maybe not in love with him in a carnal way, but he is on the spiritual level. If he's not here it means he's dead, or at least unable to come down.

So what's left to save Dean?

A deal?

A spell?

Those have a price, those always have a price, and Sam knows too well where it leads. It leads to more death and more loss and more problems.

Unless...

Crowley.

How did he missed that? It was all Crowley's fault after all, and the son of a bitch owes him. He let him live after Dean killed Abaddon, he even lend him Ruby's knife. Now he's King of Hell again, he has the power to bring Dean back.

And if he doesn't do it, then Sam will hunt him until he shreds him into pieces and feeds him to his hounds.

This isn't how it ends.

This can't be how it ends.

They're one, they're Janus, the two-faced God of beginnings and endings. They don't play by the same set of rules than everyone else and them, and only them can decide when things begin and when things end.

And clearly, nothing is ending today.


	20. Howling At The Moon

Crowley is standing at the entrance of Dean's bedroom door, and is staring at the hunter's dead body. Well dead...

Moose is calling him downstairs, certainly ready to sell his soul to save his darling brother's life, it's so predictable. They are both so predictable. So much in love. It could make him throw up but somehow it also... moves him?

_"Your brother, bless his soul, is summoning me as I speak. Make a deal, bring you back. It's exactly what I was talking about, isn't it? It's all become so... expected."_

He blames it on Winchester DNA.

Ever since Moose has injected him with his poisonous blood, he began to notice things. Things like the fact he doesn't have any friend. That absolutely no one cares about him. Well, a lot of people have wanted to kill him over the centuries but no one, no one would mourn him if he died. On the contrary, some people, many people, might throw a party.

And that, that is a shame.

Because he's a fine fellow. He has good looks, a wicked sense of humor, and tremendous power. He's not constantly whining like that stupid angel, or getting all damsel in distress like Moose so... Who wouldn't like to share a little time with him, huh?

Huh?

Anyway, this time is over. Because in five minutes, or so, he's going to have his very first friend. His own Frankenstein monster. His new favorite hound.

_"You have to believe me. When I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain, I didn't know this was going to happen. Not really. I mean, I might not have told you the entire truth. But I never lied. I never lied, Dean. That's important. It's fundamental."_

He read somewhere friends don't lie to each other, and strictly speaking, he didn't.

_"But...there is one story about Cain that I might have... forgotten to tell you. Apparently, he, too, was willing to accept death, rather than becoming the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So he took his own life with the Blade. He died. Except, as rumor has it, the Mark never quite let go. You can understand why I never spoke of this. Why set hearts aflutter at mere speculation? "_

And why taking the risk of Dean refusing to bear the Mark? Crowley's mother was a witch. And a very, very good one. More wicked than the Wicked Witch of the West, but an excellent technician. And she taught him well back then, when he was still named Fergus. She gave him a knowledge that almost no one has anymore. A knowledge that helped him destroy the Leviathans, and Abaddon, and even Metatron, when Dean wasn't even working for him yet.

_"It wasn't until you summoned me... No, it wasn't truly until you left that cheeseburger uneaten...that I began to let myself believe. Maybe miracles do come true."_

With Dean by his side, and the Knights of Hell reformed, he can rule the entire world. Heaven is in ruins, then Angels are weakened by God (Ha!) knows what, and he's going to have the most powerful weapon at his service. Dean Winchester, the best hunter he's ever met, is now the bearer of the deadliest blade ever crafted.

He moves to the bed and places the First Blade into Dean's right hand and lays them both on his chest.

_"Listen to me, Dean Winchester, what you're feeling right now , it's not death. It's life, a new kind of life"_

Crowley wonders if Dean can feel the same excitement he felt when he was born again as a demon. After decades of constant torture, born in blood, screaming at the face of the world I'm going to own you and nothing will stop me.

Him who was born in the gutter.

_"Open your eyes"_

He sees Dean's hand clutched around the Blade.

_"See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon."_

Dean opens his eyes. They're dark as night.

Crowley smiles and says

_"Good boy."_


End file.
